Preconceived Notions
by PennyDreddful
Summary: "It was for your own good, mate. You had to learn sooner or later that Granger wasn't an option for you. She never was," Blaise said, almost sympathetically. "What's gotten into you? What makes you think I could ever look twice at her?" Blaise gave Draco a hard stare. "You really don't see it, do you?" [On hiatus - see profile for updates]
1. Prologue

_A/N **:** Hello newcomers, welcome to my story. Here we will follow Draco's journey from first year all through the Battle of Hogwarts, and how everything could have been. I encourage you to read starting from the prologue, but if you are more interested in getting your Dramione fix, feel free to skip to the chapters of their fourth year._

 _My goal, more than anything, is to stay true to our beloved characters, and present you with a quality piece of fiction. By the end, I hope you fall in love with Dramione the way that I have, and that you won't find it so far-fetched after all.  
_

 _Obligatory disclaimer: I own nothing. Mostly._

 **Rating** : T (some language and violence, suggestive themes) until chapter 33. After that it'll be rated M (language, violence/gore, sexual themes).

* * *

 **Prologue**

Draco stood on the platform, rocking back and forth on his heels with an unbridled eagerness as he awaited his first glimpse of the Hogwarts Express. At the age of eleven, he found the bustle of students and families exciting, and he nervously smoothed back his hair. His mother, a vision of refinement and good breeding, smiled dotingly down at him. His father, at his other side, nudged him with the head of his cane.

"Stand still, would you?" Lucius snapped. "No son of mine will be seen dancing about like a fool."

The words stung a bit, and Draco felt his face heat up slightly, but it did little to diminish his high spirits. He planted his feet and watched the crowd.

Only some faces were familiar, no doubt pureblood families that his parents had hosted at some time or another. Everyone else, no matter how plain in reality, just seemed so _exotic_ to his young eyes. Older students boisterously greeted one another after the long summer holiday and younger ones chattered amongst their families, with "promise you'll write" and "I love you" constantly drifting through the background. Draco expected no like sentiments from his parents.

With a deafening hoot of its horn and the rumble of its engine entering the station, the Hogwarts Express finally arrived at platform 9 3/4. Draco, despite knowing that his father might disapprove, grinned.

"Now remember what we've discussed, Draco," Lucius said. He gave a hard look at the eleven-year-old. "You'd do well to make friends in high places. The _right_ places."

The smile on Draco's face disappeared, replaced by a well-practiced mask of neutrality. "Yes father," was his only answer.

They of course had him settled near the front, just behind the prefects' cabins, which Draco accepted with some chagrin - the older students wouldn't like that at all, would they? But no one seemed put-off as they shuffled past his open door. That is, no one seemed to glance his way at all.

Narcissa waved happily from the platform, and Draco smiled back, feeling the weight in his pocket of some extra galleons she'd slipped him during their hug good-bye. Lucius, somehow peering down his nose at Draco despite being far below the train window (which Draco could only attribute to some kind of mysterious parental magic) merely gave a curt nod.

"You're early," grunted a familiar voice. Draco turned to find Vincent Crabbe slinking into the cabin, followed by Gregory Goyle.

"And it's a good thing, too," Draco said. "If it were up to you two, we'd be stuck at the back with the Hufflepuffs."

Vince frowned, but Gregory chuckled. It was a dense, throaty sound.

"Do you think they'll have food?" Vince said, craning his short neck to peer down the crowded traincar.

"Don't be thick, of _course_ they'll have food," Draco replied. He was used to Vincent's (and, well, Gregory's as well) utter lack of brains, having grown up in the same social circles. It was a comfort to have them around, he knew, but at the same time Draco prayed that some more interesting people would join them for the ride.

That wish did come true - well, very nearly. The fourth seat in their cabin was eventually taken by Pansy Parkinson, who Draco recognized by her unfortunate face and the "PP" stamped on her dragon-hide wand case. She at least kept the conversation off of food, at any rate.

The train ride rattled by rather uneventfully, aside from the momentary shrieks heard soon after departure (apparently some idiot had lost his toad) and an occasional interruption by a prefect or the trolley woman. At one point a crazy-haired girl sidled past to ask the prefects when they might need to change into their robes, at which Pansy rolled her eyes.

"There's a mudblood if I've ever seen one," she said, eyeing her fingernails with feigned boredom.

And indeed, this girl had the look of a muggle-born, with her pressed jeans and an unflattering polo t-shirt - an outfit no wizarding family would tolerate, Draco thought. Her eyes snapped to Pansy, a look of confusion on her face. Then her cheeks reddened and she turned on her heel, her mess of hair bouncing as she left.

"Good thing we'll be in Slytherin," Pansy continued, though Draco got the feeling that Vince and Gregory were somehow excluded from that statement. Pansy's eyes appraised Draco as she spoke. "I simply couldn't _stand_ to share a dorm with that riff-raff."

Draco merely smirked in response, then stared out the window. While he agreed wholeheartedly, he had other matters on his mind - matters like the fact that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was somewhere on the train, and that Draco very much hoped to meet him.

The first years always arrived at Hogwarts separately from the rest, drifting across the dark lake in lantern-lit boats. His father had explained as much, and it made Draco feel confident to know exactly how the evening would play out. They'd sail up to the shores of the castle, he'd be sorted into Slytherin by a magicked hat (all Malfoy's belonged in Slytherin, so he wasn't concerned about that bit) and later, when they reached the first-year dorms, he'd be able to properly meet this Potter fellow. That would a friend in high places, all right. A friend in the _right_ places.

But when they departed their boats and finally entered the castle, Draco found himself anxiously scanning the crowd of newcomers, hoping to glimpse that infamous lightning-bolt scar. Someone else found it first.

"Blimey, it's _Harry Potter_ ," he heard someone whisper beside him. Draco turned.

Everyone's eyes were set on a scrawny, pale boy with a mop of rather unruly black hair, and he merely stared back at them all with a look of bewilderment. Sure enough, a scar was just visible under the boy's bangs. The other students fell silent.

Seizing this opportunity, Draco pushed past the others and stood before him. Vince and Gregory, ever at his side, followed.

"It's true then, what they're saying? That Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts?" Draco blurted out, in part thinking they all must be mistaken. He couldn't help it, anyone would doubt that this feeble-looking kid had once defeated the great Dark Lord.

But the boy nodded, then adjusted his round glasses. "Yeah, that's me."

 _Well, he is only eleven_ , Draco thought. He lifted his chin, drawing himself a little taller. "Well this here's Crabbe, and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy - Draco Malfoy."

Someone just beside Potter sniggered, and Draco shot a glare in that direction. Sure enough, he recognized all the trademarks of a person from a particularly dishonorable pureblood family.

"Think my name's funny? Well, no need to tell me yours. With that hair, and those second-hand robes, no doubt you're a Weasley." Inwardly pleased with his display of knowledge, Draco smirked. He looked back to Potter, intent to pass along his father's advice. "You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you, there." He held out his hand.

But Potter only stared, not returning the gesture. Then he said, quite calmly, "I think I can sort that out on my own, thanks."

Taken aback, Draco opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut-off by the arrival of the stern-looking older witch he would come to know as Professor McGonagall.

Before he could set Potter straight - this wasn't how it was supposed to be, not at all - the first-years were whisked up into the Great Hall and thousands of eyes were upon them. Draco spotted the familiar green banner over the Slytherin table and a sudden doubt gripped him; what if he didn't get in? What if that didn't go as planned, either? He felt quite certain that his father would disown him.

The sorting began, and from there the night moved along quickly. McGonagall read names off of her scroll, and one by one, the students found themselves under that ragged hat. He recognized the bushy-haired girl from the train, who perched shyly on the stool for her turn. Hermione Granger, what a name. It even _sounded_ muddy to Draco's ears.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed, and, like the others, the girl named Hermione was welcomed to her house amid raucous cheers.

Weasley went some time after that, as well as Gregory, Pansy, and Vince. There weren't any surprises, really, except that Neville Longbottom (Draco recognized the name as one usually accompanied by dishonor and ineptitude back home) was also sorted into Gryffindor. Draco started to sweat.

 _That hat is bloody defective_ , he thought.

"Draco Malfoy," called McGonagall.

Swallowing back his fear, Draco ascended the steps toward the stool. He turned, trying not to look out over all the expectant faces, and braced himself for the worst.

"SLYTHERIN!" roared the hat.

Had it even touched his head?

It was no matter, for the table in green erupted in applause, and Draco found himself grinning with relief. So, this would be home now.

He made his way to his new place among the Slytherins, feeling more elated by every hand that reached out to pat his back as he walked by. They were just so... _proud_. He didn't hear the next names called out, but instead focused on keeping his hands from shaking. There hadn't been any reason to fret after all, had there?

"Harry Potter!"

This caught Draco's attention. A hush fell over the hall.

Lucius Malfoy had been so sure that Harry Potter would really _be_ something. He'd spoken of it regularly in the last few months, impressing upon Draco the weight of Potter's name and how vital it would be for the Slytherin house. That kind of power doesn't just go away, after all. He'd be the next great name in wizarding history.

After their introduction, though, Draco just wasn't so sure.

Now Potter was seated on the stool, hat on his head, and looking up rather stupidly at the brim of it. Draco found himself unimpressed. Really, _that_ would be the next powerful wizard?

"GRYFFINDOR!"

No, it wouldn't be so. Lucius Malfoy had been wrong before.

Watching as Potter was welcomed warmly - and loudly - by the table on the other side of the room, Draco frowned. Potter slid onto the bench just between Weasley and that Hermione girl, and Draco eyed them with a sense of foreboding. No, Lucius must be mistaken. There was no way that Harry Potter would become anything formidable in the least, and Draco was sure of it.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello all!  This story takes place primarily during Draco's later years at Hogwarts, but there is a bit of backstory to lay out first. In the case of chapter one, I decided to use the movie scene, rather than the one from the books. Some small events will be moved around, and I always have a reason for it - I have a tendency to over-analyze all my character's motives and personalities.

I also used this story as an outlet to express some new information J.K. has given us, via interviews or Pottermore. She did tell us that the Malfoys expected Harry to grow up to be the next Dark Lord, in a sense.

It's easy to look at a story that's already established with this many chapters, and to think that reviewing the early chapters is pointless. I constantly go back and revise, so don't think your reviews are pointless. I love critique and I love to hear feedback. It keeps me motivated and pushes me forward. That being said, please leave a review every few chapters as you go - it helps me immensely in knowing what I did well versus what I did poorly, and what I can improve on. This is a story for you guys just as much as it's a story for me.

Thanks for reading!

PennyDreddful


	2. Second Year

_A/N: Thank you annaea3077 and Elased for the reviews! They are very appreciated._

* * *

 **Chapter One: Second Year**

It wasn't the first time Draco found himself second-guessing his father's words, but it was the first time regarding the topic of blood purity. Over the holiday, while reviewing grades and exam work, Draco had found himself ranting about "that _insufferable_ mudblood Hermione Granger," and Lucius became furious to discover that this muggle-born had bested his son in academics. That name had been discussed before at Malfoy Manor, namely over Christmas when Lucius drilled Draco about Harry Potter's habits and friends. Lucius decided that it wasn't possible for Draco to try his hardest and still lose out to "their kind," which Draco found utterly infuriating.

So to say that Hermione Granger made Draco grind his teeth in anger would be a slight understatement.

The holiday was spent with more demands from his parents to study, in addition to the regular lessons any high-class wizard should expect. Draco frequently practiced his quidditch skills with a personal trainer, was made to suffer through dull galas and dinner parties, and even had to learn the waltz from his mother. He found dancing downright dreadful, but tried to put on his best smile for Narcissa. She, at least, looked forward to their lessons.

As the summer dragged on, Draco found himself locked in the Malfoy library for yet another afternoon, rubbing his eyes and scowling at some decrepit book, and he thought about Hermione Granger.

She really wasn't anything special, not in the way of looks or personality (Draco really disliked do-gooders) but he had to admit, she was brilliant. Smart as hell. And Draco knew that as much as the witch studied like it was a pasttime, she also spent large chunks of time with Potter and Weasley, so reading was hardly the _only_ thing she did. That much had come to light at the end of the year, when Quirrell was outed and rumors spread about the infamous Sorcerer's Stone.

From what he'd heard growing up, Draco would have expected any muggle-born to spend inordinate amounts of time and energy just to _keep up_ with the purebloods. But that wasn't the case, was it? What if magic really _did_ come naturally to them? What if they were just as capable?

He tried not to think about it.

When the end of August approached, Draco noticed that his father spent more and more time away from the manor, and took even greater interest in Harry Potter. Draco didn't quite know why - it seemed to go beyond stubbornness, at any rate. Then Lucius and Narcissa sat Draco down and explained.

The Dark Lord would return, they said. Certain measures had been taken long ago to ensure His eventual success, and the Malfoy's found themselves deeply honored with the opportunity to aid in this endeavor. It all came down to a book.

Part of the Dark Lord's rise would include the death of twelve-year-old Harry Potter. When Draco realized as much, he felt a bit sick, not that he showed it. Sure, he found Potter to be pretty obnoxious, and would rather see him expelled (or perhaps hexed on regular occasion) but... dead?

Draco couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to die at age twelve. It sounded deeply unfair.

"Now now, Draco," his mother said, running her hand over his hair. She gave a sad smile. "Sometimes we must make sacrifices for the greater good, don't you see?"

At the time he'd nodded. Maybe he even believed.

...

Some time later, Draco found himself lost among stacks of books in Flourish & Blotts, trying to ignore the pitiful _ooh's_ and _ahh's_ which accompanied the gaggle of women crowding in. Some big-shot with a pretty face was doing a book signing. To Draco's chagrin, that big-shot would be his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Splendid.

The door opened to the sound of a tinkling bell and a new assortment of voices. Draco looked up.

In came Potter, Hermione Granger, and a slew of red-haired Weasleys. Draco scowled at their entrance, thinking back on all the extra work he'd put in over the holiday. All thanks to _them_. His hand crumpled around the page he'd been turning, not that he noticed.

Lucius approached them right off, sneering and accosting them for their poverty and truly disgraceful conduct. The Weasleys, anyway, were a longstanding pureblood family, and yet Arthur dabbled in muggle studies (of all things) and they bred like rabbits. What a blemish upon the pureblood society, indeed.

Then Draco saw it; while examining the tattered books of the young Weasley girl, Lucius had slipped the diary in among her possessions.

Draco tried not to stare at it.

"And you must be Miss Granger," Lucius said, raising an eyebrow at Hermione. "My son's told me all about _you_."

Draco felt his face color - he hadn't talked about her _that_ much - and Hermione's eyes landed on him. She glowered, mouth in a thin straight line.

While his father went on, now addressing Harry, Draco found himself lifting his chin and mustering all the superiority he could manage. No way he'd let a lowly muggle-born get the wrong idea.

...

It was... a _difficult_ year.

Even knowing that something would go wrong didn't alleviate the wariness Draco felt at almost any moment. Then Filch's horrid cat was found, petrified. Then the Creevey kid, and Nearly Headless Nick. Each event had Draco's chest feeling tighter - what kind of bloody monster could petrify a _ghost?_

And he knew why it was all happening. He spent nights laying awake, tossing and turning, conflicted about what his mother had said. _Sacrifices had to be made._

But it was only supposed to be Potter who died, and that was bad enough. What if they had less control over this monster than they thought? What if the thing came after _him?_

So when Draco found himself staring at a blood-spattered wall, jostled by the many terrified students who came to read the words, Draco glared at Harry Potter. It was all _his_ fault, after all.

"'Enemies of the heir beware?'" Draco said. His eyes landed on Hermione, who stood just beside Harry Potter. "You'll be next, mudbloods."

At that, Hermione's face flushed, and this time it wasn't in anger, but fear.

 _Good_ , Draco thought. _She_ should _be afraid, or that big head of hers will get her into trouble._

He'd called her a mudblood before, when she'd nearly humiliated him on the quidditch pitch. She'd deserved it that time - what right did she have, to say that Draco Malfoy couldn't get on the team without buying his way in? When her words hit his ears, he'd seen red. Fortunately, Weasley's wand backfired at the same moment, and the attention wasn't on Draco anymore, but on the Gryffindor who was suddenly puking up slugs. Served him right, didn't it?

Hermione Granger didn't seem to learn though, still sticking her nose into everyone's business. Meddling. She was just a know-it-all, albeit a know-it-all who scored higher on every exam and paper that entire year. Draco heard about this plenty in regular letters from his father.

...

 _Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._

"That's what it says?" Draco asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. While the fire in the hearth blazed on, a distinct chill had settled over the Slytherin common room. Snape had arrived earlier that evening to announce a temporary curfew, and only just now had any news arrived. A few seventh years had cast disillusionment charms on themselves and ventured out (no one mentioned this to the prefects) to discover what they could.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" snapped the older boy. He pulled his cloak tight around his rail-thin frame, shivering. "In blood. Did I mention the blood?"

Draco sat back in his armchair while multiple conversations started up at once, all in worried tones. He knew all the Slytherins were accounted for, since the prefects had taken a roll-call soon after Snape left. No one felt like going to bed, so they all crowded into the common room - the only reason Draco had snagged an armchair was that he'd already been sitting there reading.

Greg nudged Draco with his elbow.

"Looks like you won't have to worry about Granger anymore, eh?"

"Shut up," Draco hissed.

Blaise Zabini, dark-skinned and highly intelligent (he and Draco had taken a liking to each other late last year) nodded in agreement. "It does beg the question, though..."

Draco looked at his friend. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, who is the 'she?'" said Blaise. More people were listening now. "We know it's no one in Slytherin." The students cast worried glances among each other. Many of them had friends or acquaintances in Ravenclaw, at least.

"It's probably a muggle-born," someone said. Others seemed to agree.

Blaise looked at Draco. "It's a good thing Granger's petrified already, or it could have been her."

"Yeah," Draco agreed absently. That did make him feel better. Then he realized that Blaise was staring at him.

"What?" Draco said.

After a long moment, Blaise shrugged. "I'm glad it couldn't be Granger. After all, I wouldn't want anyone pointing fingers at _you_." When Draco's eyebrows drew together in confusion, Blaise crossed his arms. "Since, you know. The last thing you said was kind of a threat."

Draco winced, having forgotten himself, while the others went on about how the monster would finish off the rest of the mudbloods anyway. Draco didn't listen, losing himself in thought instead. He should be concerned about saving his own skin, not about the welfare of some muggle-born.

Telling himself just that, Draco ignored Blaise's curious stare. It would be a long night.

...

Draco managed to get through the last weeks of class with little distraction. Most things were coming right, including that no one had died that night in the Chamber of Secrets. Those petrified were being healed. Harry Potter was still alive.

He knew deep down that, once home, he would see things differently. His parents would lament that the plan failed, and that the Dark Lord hadn't prevailed... But for now, Draco was just glad that nobody was dead.

Sitting among his classmates on the final day of school, eating lunch and chatting about summer plans, Draco heard a few gasps and noticed many others turning toward the entrance hall.

Nearly Headless Nick, Colin Creevey, and Hermione Granger stepped in (or floated, in the case of the ghost). Others began clapping, and then standing, and then a mass of Gryffindors were rushing at each other and hugging. He saw that, somewhere amid the joy, a bushy-haired girl was clinging happily to her friends. His father wouldn't like this at all, but Draco did breathe a sigh of relief and tried to rationalize to himself that it would all be okay, they always had next year to think up a new plan to help Voldemort, right? But for now, he could enjoy the fact that no one was dead.

Blaise Zabini looked on, somewhat unsurprised.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! I know we skipped first year, but more happens in the years following that isn't given to you in JK's books. I thought that would all be too boring to read here.

Tell me what you think! Third year gets even more interesting. Then things _really_ kick off. *wink*

PennyDreddful


	3. Third Year

_A/N: Yes, the Lestranges aren't supposed to break out until fifth year - humor me and imagine they escaped the same time that Sirius did. It gave me more content to work with here._

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Third Year**

That summer flew by in a blur. Draco found himself escaping often to the manor's gardens with his Nimbus 2001 to practice his skills as Seeker, more to avoid his parents than anything else. At least it was an excellent outlet for blowing off steam.

Blaise visited a handful of times, and often invited Draco to visit the Zabini home (which Blaise described as "nothing special, but we all fit") though Lucius, for some reason Draco couldn't fathom, put his foot down. Draco wouldn't be leaving the manor that summer. It didn't make any sense, since during previous holidays his parents had always encouraged him to have his friends - or, more accurately, his social equals - over to visit. He didn't understand.

Then Aunt Bella turned up.

It was late in August, and they'd had no time to prepare for the arrival of the half-crazed, sunken-eyed witch and her husband. Draco found himself banished to his bedroom. He cracked open the door, straining his eyes to see down the long hallway - he was in the wrong wing of the manor to catch much, but he could overhear the scene unfolding in the foyer. He itched to wander down the hall and peek over the landing, but he'd learned long ago that getting caught by his father wasn't worth the risk. So he listened.

"Is the suite ready?" his mother's voice drifted from the foyer. "They'll be needing food - and a bath - Pinny!" A light _crack_ followed the House-Elf's name. "Run hot water in the guest suite. Now!" Another _crack_.

"They will be dressed, won't they?" Lucius's voice held some genuine discomfort at the thought. "Who knows what kind of rags they've been subjected to? Filth, all of it, I'm sure. I'd be out of my mind from just _that_ -"

Narcissa gasped. "Oh! The dementors, Lucius! _Pinny!_ " _Crack_.

"I want a supply of chocolate in the suite as well - the good kind. All of it." From the immediate _crack_ which followed, apparently Pinny didn't need Narcissa's word to hurry. "Lucius, I can't stand this, she won't be the same..."

"Hush, darling," came the reply. Draco interpreted the following pause to be a comforting hug shared between them. While his father was a hard man, and even more so at Draco's expense, his mother did always bring out his warm side. A side Draco would never see for himself.

"They will need time, Narcissa," he said, almost too quietly for Draco to hear, "But just think - soon the Dark Lord will return, and He will reward his faithful followers. He will give them health, and He will give us safety. Safety, and promise of a better, cleaner world for Draco."

"Yes," Narcissa sniffed, "It will be well. For Draco."

As for the son in question, he sat back on his heels at hearing those words. A 'better, cleaner world?' Draco knew what his father meant by that. A world free of muggles and muggle-born.

It wouldn't be anytime soon, though, and for that Draco found himself oddly relieved. He had a feeling that before the world was cleansed, it would become infinitely messier.

He heard a _hiss_ , along with the crackling of a fire bursting to life. Soon there was a commotion of footsteps and voices.

The Lestranges had arrived.

...

It was a week later, the evening before Draco would leave for Hogwarts, when he finally met his aunt and uncle. In the days before they'd been locked away in their private corner of the manor, no doubt resting and trying to readjust to life among the living.

Pinny had set the formal dining table with their finest silver and china, and they dined on roast pheasant that night. A fine, fancy meal. One Draco might have enjoyed, had it not been for the many dark eyes watching him all through it.

Just moments before, the Lestranges had made their grand entrance, sweeping into the dining hall with their sleek black robes. Both were pale, though less sickly-looking than Draco had anticipated. His uncle stood tall, with a sharp gaze and even sharper features - his teeth looked nearly fanged when he smiled in greeting. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was all curves and wide-eyes, from her heart-shaped face to the grin plastered on it.

"Oh _Cissy!_ " she'd gasped, staring at Draco. "Isn't he _marvelous?_ He'll make quite a man one day, won't he?"

Draco had stood nervously, unsure of what to make of the odd greeting.

"Uh, hello," he'd said.

At this, Bellatrix clapped excitedly and cackled with delight. The sound put Draco's nerves on edge.

"Yes, simply delightful!" she'd gushed. "And so handsome. He'll do _quite_ well with the ladies, eh Lucius?" With a wink, she grinned again, then collapsed into her seat.

Draco ate his meal in silence, ignoring the chatter that continued on with the adults. He was suddenly very eager to get on that train the next morning.

...

His third year at Hogwarts brought about some big changes, though not all of them were for the better. Divination was a joke, and so was Care of Magical Creatures with that half-giant abomination. How Dumbledore could trust Hagrid with students, Draco had no idea. Clearly the old Headmaster was losing it.

For the most part, Draco tried to keep his head down and focus on his studies - Potter kept being obnoxious, however, and he and his friends made it all too easy to make fun. At some point it had stopped bothering Draco that muggle-born Granger earned higher marks in class, though he wasn't sure exactly when that change occured. After all, it was only intelligence. There were more important things.

Professor Lupin certainly kept things interesting in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Draco enjoyed. Not that he'd let on, of course. He'd overheard enough upperclassmen remarking on the man's evident shabbiness (this was in the Slytherin common room, of course) and learned quickly to keep such thoughts to himself. It was the same with his admiration for the Weasley twins and their antics; none of his friends would understand, Draco was sure, so it was best to keep quiet.

The fall came and went, then Christmas (fortunately the Lestrange's had found a more permanent hideout away from the manor, so Draco could relax a bit) and before he knew it the snow had melted and classes resumed. He weathered the hit to his pride when Potter bested him at Quidditch, and he managed to avoid revealing his darkest fears in public when Lupin unleashed his boggart. No one had noticed when Draco slipped to the back of the line that class, at least. He wasn't ready for that kind of humiliation.

And then one day, he was beneath the slashing paws of one of Hagrid's beasts - in a moment of sheer stupidity, Draco had let his ego get the best of him. Potter had made it look so _easy_ , after all. It was always Potter. The bloody Boy-Who-Lived.

So before he knew it, Draco was strutting up to the monstrous hippogriff, saying something about it being just a stupid animal - then the creature reared up on its hind legs, shrieking, and lashed out with its knife-like claws.

Draco only had enough time to block the blow with his arm before throwing himself to the ground.

He heard students shouting, and Hagrid thundered past to get a hold of the squawking bird-thing. Clutching his forearm, which had begun to bleed profusely, Draco mentally berated himself for being so dense.

Rising, Draco held his arm and shouted the first thing that came to mind, something about his father and making sure that thing wouldn't live to see another day. Then Pansy was at his side.

"Oh _Draco!_ " she exclaimed, clinging to his shoulder. "It could have killed you!"

Blaise put his hand on Draco's other shoulder, looking more than a little unimpressed. He steered Draco toward the castle.

"C'mon, mate," Blaise said. "Pomfrey will want to see that."

Draco allowed himself to be led to the Hospital Wing, flanked by Blaise and a handful of girls - really, was his injury _that_ bad? But Madam Pomfrey shooed them all away the moment they strode in.

"What's this?" the elderly witch demanded.

"One of Hagrid's beasts attacked Draco!" Pansy said breathlessly. Draco realized how close the girl was, and tried to pull away. Her grip remained obstinate, though.

"What?" Madam Pomfrey gasped. She then shook her head, remembering herself, and pointed to a cot. "The Headmaster will need to hear about this. Ms. Parkinson, you're dismissed as well."

"But Draco _needs_ me -"

"Bye, Parkinson," Draco muttered, laying down and closing his eyes. He had a headache now, too. After a long pause, he heard Pansy's retreating footsteps.

Pomfrey had him patched up in no time, though she demanded that Draco stay in bed until Dumbledore could have a word with him. This bit of news didn't sit well with Draco, but he didn't see any way out of it. The headmaster made him nervous. It always felt like he knew more than he was letting on.

...

After all that mess had cleared away, Draco found himself looking forward to watching the execution of the damned hippogriff. The thing had caused him plenty of trouble in the last few weeks, and more than one lecture from his father.

So it was on a crisp, gray evening when Draco found himself watching Hagrid's hut from afar. Vince and Gregory had followed, as per usual. The pair shared some Bertie Bott's jellybeans with Draco while they waited, and he found himself oddly grateful for their company.

Familiar voices drifted from the opposite direction.

"Oh _great_ ," Vince muttered.

Draco turned to see none other than Hogwarts' own "golden trio" traipsing down the path. His stomach clenched at the sight of them, all gangly and dressed down for the day. Of _course_ they would ruin this moment.

"Come to enjoy the show?" he spat.

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. Granger, who flew into a sudden rage, set her bright eyes on him.

"You foul, loathsome, _evil_ little -" she whipped her wand out, and Draco didn't hear what she said after that. He jumped back, but the tip of her wand didn't leave his throat.

They stared at each other for a moment, her eyes alight with fury and his filled with unrestrained fear. Somewhere behind that bushy hair of hers, Draco heard Weasley call Hermione's name.

Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, the young witch lowered her wand. She turned away.

In his relief, Draco laughed. "I knew you couldn't -"

 _Whack._

Before he'd even realized what had happened, Draco was stumbling back into Vince and Gregory, his nose exploding with pain. Had she _hit_ him?

Now afraid that she'd reconsider using that wand of hers, Draco found his footing and pulled his friends away, urging them to run. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of a hex from Hermione Granger, muggle-born or not.

As blood gushed from his nose and his legs struggled to carry him far away from that place, all Draco could think of was that ferocious glint in Hermione's eye when she'd stared him down. He knew even then that, as much as he'd always want to forget that day and the embarrassment it entailed, he somehow never would.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys, thanks for reading! Your reviews have been a delight.

As a part of keeping things as in-canon as possible, please note that just because a certain event isn't mentioned in the chapters, doesn't mean it hasn't happened. And I know, I'm straying pretty far into the movie-verse, but for some of these scenes (meeting Harry, Hermione's punch, etc.) I thought they fit much better.

Please leave a review - I have been revising these chapters, and I need to know where I can fix things up.

PennyDreddful


	4. The Tri-Wizard Tournament

_A/N: And finally, we can start getting to the good stuff_.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Tri-Wizard Tournament**

Draco leaned his head against the cool glass of the traincar window, allowing his eyes to fall shut for the moment. He tried not to think back on the world cup fiasco, but the Daily Prophet's photos had burned themselves into his head - magical families all running scared, tents aflame, dark mark in the sky. He hadn't even seen it for himself, having been hurried home directly after the match by his mother. The worst part was knowing that his own family was partially to blame.

His mother had obstinately refused to let Draco in on any of the "meetings" held at Malfoy Manor leading up to the event, though Lucius argued profusely, reminding her that their son was nearly fifteen years old.

" _Exactly!"_ Narcissa had snapped. "He is only fifteen, Lucius. He will have one more year to be a child, and that is the end of it."

Indeed, that had ended _that_ conversation.

So all summer, Draco knew that something was in the works, not that he'd known what. And he hadn't really wanted to know, either. Now he wasn't so sure, realizing what chaos might have been avoided if only he'd paid attention.

 _Don't be dense_ , he told himself. _Knowing is one thing. Turning your family in to the Ministry is another._

"What do you say, Draco?"

Pansy's shrill voice brought Draco back to reality. He drew in a slow breath.

"What do I say to what?" he asked.

"Well the rumors, of course," she replied, head tilted curiously. She'd grown a bit over the holiday, mostly in the way of curves. Her black hair looked a bit longer too, though the blunt cut of her bangs still made her nose look too big, in Draco's opinion.

"Word is that we'll be hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament this year," said Blaise, who was seated next to Pansy. She seemed to bat her eyelashes in his direction every few minutes, not that Blaise noticed. He was like that with girls though, Draco knew; girls simply adored the dark-skinned, chiseled Blaise Zabini, and Blaise Zabini simply didn't care about the girls. It was the way of things.

"Yeah right," Draco rolled his eyes. "Like they'd let us do something _that_ interesting."

When had the train started moving? Draco rubbed at his head. He needed to get a hold of himself.

"I don't know," said Blaise. "My father heard word around the Ministry. It could be legit."

"Well _I_ for one couldn't be more excited," Pansy chimed in, stretching out her legs. She propped her feet on the empty seat beside Draco. "If it's true, then we'll be playing host to the Durmstrang boys. Now _that_ is something I could get used to."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think they'd look at us? We're still only fourth years."

Pansy responded by sticking her nose in the air. "I didn't think they'll notice you boys. But as a _lady_ -"

" _Mmm_ , ladies..." Blaise mumbled, smirking. "Which reminds me, we'll also be receiving the Beauxbatons girls..."

Draco and Blaise shared a grin, more at Pansy's scowl than anything else. She didn't speak much after that.

Once the train arrived at Hogwarts, the three shuffled off into a carriage, where they found Vince and Gregory. They all squeezed onto the bench seats, chatting idly about the holiday. Gregory had always been a rather hulking fellow, but he'd sprouted up nearly another foot since the last time Draco had seen him. Vince, on the other hand, only seemed to widen out.

Frowning, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. He supposed he had grown, too, but not enough to be considered manly - yet. He'd get there eventually, he figured. For now, however, his legs felt too gangly and his shoulders too narrow. He pushed his long bangs out of his face and stared out at the castle.

Things were changing. They were growing up, and soon the Death Eaters would expect support from more than just Draco's parents. The Death Eaters, and possibly the Dark Lord, too.

He shuddered at the thought.

The sorting ceremony went as per usual this year, though before they could all tuck in to their dinner feast, Dumbledore rose.

"Good evening, students," he said, his voice carrying throughout the hall. His eyes twinkled with merriment. "Before we are to begin our feast, I have a few announcements to make.

"This year, Hogwarts will host a legendary event. In it, students from three different schools will compete to claim the Tri-Wizard Cup, and along with it, eternal glory."

This caught Draco's attention more than anything. _Eternal glory?_

"Do not be deceived, however. The Tri-Wizard Tournament consists of dangerous tasks meant to challenge even the most capable of witches and wizards; while the glory may be great, I must warn you that more than one student has met their death in search of it."

Blaise nudged Draco's elbow. "Bet you five galleons they send Potter."

Draco frowned in response.

"Due to the great danger involved in participating, the Ministry of Magic has ruled that only students aged seventeen and above may enter. Any of you wishing to do so may write your name on a piece of paper and place it in this goblet." Dumbledore swept to the side, and where he'd stood seconds before sat a short column. It wasn't the column that had students gasping in awe, though.

Atop the column was a large, glassy cup - shaped much like a trophy - and within the glass swirled a vibrant blue flame. Draco hadn't seen anything like it.

"And now," Dumbledore continued, "I am pleased to introduce to you the young men of the Durmstrang Institute, and their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff."

The doors of the hall burst open, and in strode two single-file lines of broad-chested, burly young men in blood-red robes and fur hats. They walked with military-grade precision.

 _That could have been me_ , Draco thought. His parents had argued vehemently about which school to send him to, and if Durmstrang wasn't so far away, he'd probably be dressed in furs and learning the Dark Arts by now. But his mother would have missed him too much, and she'd insisted that he stay nearby.

The Durmstrang students planted themselves at attention beside their headmaster, who looked quite pleased.

"And now, the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy, and their headmistress, Madame Olympe Maxime."

Just as the boys had entered, in swept two neat lines of young women, all clad in trim blue dresses and matching hats. As they strode in, exuding grace with every delicate step, many of the male Hogwarts students found themselves craning their necks to watch. Draco had to admit, Dumbledore wasn't wrong in calling them lovely.

The girls came to stand beside their headmistress, who Draco only just noticed - the woman was _massive_. Nearly larger than Hagrid, he thought. Her students looked like cornish pixies in comparison.

"Can they stay with us?" Gregory said, loosening his tie. "We'll make room."

Blaise sniggered. "Haven't you heard? They'll be staying on that carriage of theirs. It's too bad, really."

"And the boys?" Pansy asked.

"They have a ship," he replied. "Really Pansy, don't you pay attention?"

She merely crossed her arms with a " _hmph_ " and looked pointedly away.

Dumbledore went on about inter-school unity and some such rubbish before dismissing them for dinner, during which the transfer students mingled between the various houses. The Durmstrang fellows congregated mostly among the Slytherin and Ravenclaw houses (at some point Draco realized that Viktor- _bloody_ -Krum was among them, and nearly fainted) while the Beauxbatons girls sat in more interspersed groups throughout the hall.

Draco stared at the goblet of fire, wishing he could be seventeen already. Eternal glory didn't sound so bad.

"Guess you owe me five galleons," he hissed at Blaise, who was busy trying to catch the eye of a Beauxbatons girl just down the bench.

"What?" Blaise said, not looking.

"Well it can't be Potter, he's our age."

Blaise frowned, then glared at Draco. He shook his head.

"That doesn't count, you git."

Draco grinned back at his friend. Maybe this year would be interesting, after all.

...

"HARRY BLOODY POTTER. He can't let _one_ thing go by without making it all about _himself_."

Draco stormed into the Slytherin common room after dinner, threw his bookbag to the floor, and set to pacing. They'd just witnessed the selecting of the champions, and had been as shocked as anyone else when the goblet had spat a fourth name out - not that they should have been, Draco reminded himself angrily. In his anger, he'd slipped out of the Great Hall the first moment he could, not wanting to watch any more of that nonsense. Vince and Gregory were just behind, and then Blaise followed with some nonchalance.

"He's such a prat," Gregory agreed.

"And how the _hell_ did he do it?" Draco went on. "You can bet he won't be sharing _that_ secret with anyone. No, he's too good. Has to keep up that obnoxious charade of innocence."

"Easy Draco, one might think you're getting jealous." Blaise reclined in one of the armchairs, smirking at his friend's expense.

"Don't be thick," Draco spat. He ground his teeth together. "It's not just Potter. This was supposed to be a good year. A _different_ year. And here we are, still bowing down to the mighty Potter, and still scoring lower marks than a mudblood. It's disgraceful."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Still hot on Granger, eh?"

Draco stopped in his tracks, an expression of utter disgust plastered on his face. The others laughed.

"I'm just kidding, Malfoy," Blaise said with a wink. "But it was worth it, trust me."

"Whatever," Draco muttered. He raked his fingers through his hair; it felt greasy after the long day. "I'm going to shower. See you lot tomorrow."

"Make it a cold one!" Vince jibed.

Watching Draco disappear through the door to their dorms, Blaise only chuckled half-heartedly along with Crabbe and Goyle. His friend never did anything overly suspicious, but Blaise still didn't like the way his seething anger and too-long glares added up. Blaise wasn't even sure Draco realized how often he'd zone out in the general direction of Potter's feminine friend.

To an extent it was understandable - unconventional, sure, but it made sense. From the start Draco and Granger had this competition going, whether she knew it or not. And if the rumors were true, she'd given him a good punch last year. Not that she was anything special looks-wise, but aside from the untamed hair and buck teeth (which seemed to have shrunk at some point) she wasn't bad-looking. She was just a girl.

But not just _any_ girl... She was muggle-born. Add that layer of unattainability, and Blaise could almost sympathize with Draco's apparent intrigue. _Almost_. And hell, Blaise figured that he'd be in denial as well.

Blaise worried at how far that intrigue might go. Honestly, he'd thought it would fizzle out sometime last year. To see it persist was unnerving, and he felt in his gut that he'd need to take action if it went any further.

 _Yes_ , Blaise thought, musing back on the past few days. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been especially difficult, since they sat toward the back of the class and had a perfect view of Granger's bushy head. Yesterday he'd caught Draco openly staring at her, his face a mix of frustration and contempt.

 _Yes, something will have to be done._

...

Draco hurried through the empty corridors, clutching the strap of his book-bag in one hand while attempting to straighten his tie with the other. He'd slept in, which hadn't happened since his second year; Blaise would no-doubt mention this at lunch. Zabini never seemed to step a toe out of line, yet managed to exude that bad-boy personality which made girls swoon. Draco made a mental note to study his friend's ways.

He rounded a corner and slowed to a brisk walk, then paused to run a hand through his hair. Ancient Runes wasn't an ideal class to miss, Babbling being as strict as she was, and here he'd skipped half of it.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, good to see you," said Professor Babbling, hardly perturbed at Draco's entrance. "I do recommend arriving on time, however. Five points from Slytherin. Now, where was I?"

"We were going over the chapter on Proto-Germanic runes, Professor," answered Granger, who of course sat in the front row. Draco nearly rolled his eyes at the girl's eagerness, until he looked around and saw the only spare seat in the class.

"Yes, thank you Ms. Granger," Babbling went on. She turned and set to scribbling on the chalkboard, talking over her shoulder about several base runes and their origins.

Shuffling his feet and failing to come up with an excuse to trade seats with someone - _anyone_ \- else, Draco scowled and headed to the front. He tossed his bag unceremoniously upon Hermione's table, rustling a few of her papers.

"Watch it!" she hissed, straightening her things and scooting her chair away.

"Sorry Granger," he replied with a smirk.

They managed to survive the next forty minutes of class with only a few other interactions (at one point Hermione splattered a bit of ink on Draco's sleeve due to some overzealous note-taking, to his great annoyance) and Draco found himself watching the clock out of boredom. Runes didn't interest him much, but it was a good class to have under your belt, in his opinion. That, and scoring even an Acceptable in Ancient Runes was considered quite good.

"I suppose with our remaining time, we can get a head-start on your homework," Professor Babbling announced. She clapped her hands together with a white puff of chalk dust. "Due next Tuesday, as per usual."

Draco glanced on the board. _Pg. 248, Rune Sets 1-12, Questions 1-4._

He rummaged through his book bag briefly before realizing that in his rush he'd forgotten to change out his things. Instead of _Spellman's Syllabary_ or _Advanced Potions, Year Four_ (which he'd need for his next class) he only found his charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts books from yesterday.

 _Fine by me_ , he thought, stifling a yawn. He reclined in his seat and shut his eyes.

"Yes, Malfoy, we all get it," Hermione said. Draco peered over, only to find the witch flipping through the pages of her text, seemingly ignoring him. "You don't need a head-start, you're _far_ too skilled for that. Next time, do us a favor and don't show up at all, okay?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow Granger. Something got you all riled up, eh?"

She flushed, but refused to look at him. "Nevermind," she muttered.

"Mr. Malfoy, I suppose you enjoy the thrill of procrastination, but in my classroom we keep our feet _off_ the desks and our textbooks _open_." Professor Babbling gave him a stern look over her glasses. Despite being a rather pudgy woman, she made an excellent impersonation of McGonagall.

"Sorry, Professor," Draco said, not sounded very sorry at all. "I seem to have forgotten my book."

The older witch pursed her lips. "Well, share with Ms. Granger then. You can nap after the bell, and not a moment before."

Hermione stiffened at that, scowling. She pushed her book over a few inches, still refusing to look up.

Draco sighed, not especially interested in doing the work quite yet. Still, to appear studious, he pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill.

He glanced back to Hermione's side of the table, where her bookbag lay open with several odd-looking quills spilling out. Something strange caught his eye; the spine of a blood-red book was just visible, with _Dragons of the World_ scrawled across in shiny gold ink.

"Taking up a new hobby?" he asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"What?" Hermione finally looked up, and for a moment, she seemed genuinely confused. She followed Draco's gaze, her face losing color when she understood. "Oh, that - it's nothing."

"Right. Just a bit more light reading, I suppose?"

"Exactly. Light reading. Do your homework."

Draco nearly laughed. "Still bossy as ever, I see."

At that, Hermione crossed her arms and fixed him with a glare. A springy brown curl fell into her face. He met her glare with raised eyebrows and the laziest gaze he could muster, crossing his own arms in return. They didn't speak for a long moment.

"Well?" she spat, finally. "I'm waiting. Go ahead, call me mudblood, lowly, know-it-all, what have you. I know you're just _dying_ to say it, so go ahead."

"Sounds like you don't need my help with that," he said. Then, almost impulsively, he continued. "Finally learned your place, have you?"

Her eyes, usually a warm honey-color, flared. "I have, actually. And it's certainly not here, next to _you._ " At that she stood, her chair screeching loudly against the floor; all eyes turned to them.

"Ms. Granger, what's gotten into you?" Babbling demanded.

Hermione, however, didn't respond. With a swish of her wand, her things slid nicely into her bag, and before Babbling could get another word out the young witch was long gone, door slamming in her wake.

Exasperated, the Professor looked at Draco.

He merely shrugged, but before he could give some kind of witty explanation, the bell rang.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys! Thank you for reading. A few notes on the chapter:

Hermione might seem a bit OOC, being as snappy as she was. As you'll discover in the next chapter, she is literally days away from the first Tri-Wizard event, and the stress is getting to her. Also, when Blaise mentions his "wager" with Draco, he obviously doesn't understand yet how the competitions works, in case that bit confused you.

Also, one of my reviewers mentioned that they didn't think Bellatrix escaped until Harry's fifth year - and indeed, you are correct! I must have gotten confused. For the purposes of this story, however, we'll say that she and Rodolphus escaped in 1993 with Sirius Black (not that he would have helped them).

Please keep reviewing! I've been updating pretty regularly, and I know that will slow down a bit, but I have a lot of time on my hands in the next few days and can bust out a few more chapters.

Thanks all,

PennyDreddful


	5. The Yule Ball

_A/N: Here it is, folks, the infamous Yule Ball chapter. Enjoy_.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: The Yule Ball**

The weeks flew by and autumn quickly shifted into winter, accompanied by the first task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and, to Draco's great agony, dance classes. The classes wouldn't have been so awful if it weren't Snape instructing them; the gaunt professor looked physically ill each time he had to demonstrate a particular step, and verbally berated his students any time a mistake was made. Draco couldn't believe that Snape actually cared that the Slytherins danced well, but if they looked too sloppy at the ball, it wouldn't bode well for his reputation as their head of house.

Not that the additional lessons were a challenge for Draco; in reality, he considered them a waste of time. After all, he'd taken lessons with his mother before, and it wasn't the kind of thing one might forget. For Merlin's sake, it wasn't the Argentinian Tango, but just a basic waltz.

Blaise seemed to be in the same boat as Draco, as well as a handful of others from some of the more prolific pureblood families. Unfortunately, Pansy was not one of them - or if she was, she must have suffered from recent brain damage and forgot it all. That seemed to be the case at the start of every lesson.

Each Wednesday and Friday at three o'clock, the Slytherins (only the upper-years, of course) occupied the Great Hall, and Snape began with a short demonstration.

"Seeing as today will be your last lesson, we will review," Snape drawled. With a swish of his wand, all the banquet tables and benches from lunch swept aside, leaving an open dance floor. "Select a partner, and we'll begin."

Before he could react, a hand clamped down on Draco's wrist. He turned and found Pansy smiling up at him and batting her eyelashes, obviously assuming they'd pair up. Again.

 _I don't know why I'm surprised_ , Draco thought. It would have been worth resisting if he'd found an acceptable candidate to take to the ball, but there simply wasn't one. Any of the girls he caught eyeing him had something - always _something_ \- that he couldn't stomach. Not for three hours anyway, which was the expected length of the date. It was either the nasally way she spoke, or the dark hairs on her upper lip that went unnoticed by most, or (most often the case) the complete lack of interesting conversation he knew she'd provide. Pansy, it seemed, had come up with a solution.

"It's really sweet of you, for putting up with me," Pansy said, guiding him out into the open. The other students partnered up and situated themselves around the hall, awaiting the practice music. "I'm just _dreadful_ at this - but it's so easy when there's a strong lead for me to follow. Say, have you been practicing your Quidditch between classes?"

"Er... no," Draco answered, then he saw the glint in her eye.

"Oh, I don't know _how_ you manage then," she said appreciatively, sliding one hand up Draco's arm. "I would have thought you worked out every day." This statement was followed by a giggle that rattled Draco's nerves. He had to focus not to visibly cringe at the sound.

Thankfully, Snape started the music just then, but not before Draco caught Blaise's eye. His friend grinned at him, giving Pansy a quick glance before setting off in his waltz. This time, it was Millicent Bullstrode that Blaise twirled around.

 _Lucky git_ , Draco thought. It seemed that each lesson Blaise had a different partner. If only Draco were so fortunate.

In all seriousness, however, Pansy wasn't the worst dance partner. As much as she played dumb, Draco knew that she could "follow a strong lead," as she put it. It wouldn't have been bad at all if she hadn't suddenly set her sights on Draco... Not that he'd admit it to her face, but by now he thought of her as one of the guys. She was somewhere between Gregory and Blaise on Draco's scale of friends.

He followed the music almost mechanically, lost in thought.

"You know, all this time, we've only danced with each other," Pansy said quietly.

 _You're bloody right we have, and it's your fault_ , Draco thought. But instead, he just gave a neutral "Mm."

"It's just that it's made me think - the Yule Ball's only a week away, and I don't have a date..." Pansy batted her eyelashes again, though Draco found himself looking anywhere else but at the girl in front of him. Somewhere in the background, Blaise watched on with amusement. "My mother bought me this dress, it's just lovely. She says I'll look like a Beauxbatons girl, all grown up... It must have cost her two hundred galleons. Of course, the neck line's a bit low for her taste, but I managed to keep her from raising it."

Sensing Draco's apparent disinterest, she continued. "You haven't asked anyone, have you?"

"No."

"Oh, I see."

Pansy seemed to wilt a bit at Draco's short answer. They continued dancing, Draco repeating the same basic steps over and over. He found himself lacking the enthusiasm to do much more.

After a solid minute of dancing in awkward silence, at which Draco sensed that Pansy was on the verge of tears, he sighed. He supposed he'd known for a while that they'd end up going together, anyway.

"Pansy, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?" He managed to make it sound sincere. It wouldn't do for an eligible lady to be asked out on a whim, as his mother might say. Even though Pansy was honestly a last resort (and asked out of pity) she didn't need to know that. No matter how much he was sure he'd regret asking.

She suddenly brightened, beaming up at him. "Really?" she said, stopping in her tracks.

"Er... Yes, really," Draco said. "I think it would be great if you went with me."

Then Pansy squealed at a frequency Draco didn't was healthy for anyone's ears, and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck with such force that he couldn't breathe. Unsure of how to react, Draco merely hovered his own hands over her back; if she felt him reciprocating the hug, he was afraid she'd pop his head clean off of his shoulders out of glee.

"Miss Parkinson?" Snape drawled, cutting through the music.

"Oh! Yes, sorry Professor," Pansy said, stepping away from Draco. He breathed deeply and rubbed his neck.

They resumed their waltz, as did all the other pairs of students, who had apparently stopped to watch when Pansy shrieked in delight. Snape raised an eyebrow at Draco. Draco merely ground his teeth together and braced himself for an onslaught of chatter from Pansy. His date.

...

The next week, Draco stood in his dormitory along with the other fourth-year boys, adjusting his dress robes and mussing his hair in front of a mirror. Soon he'd need a haircut.

His mother had sent his formal wear two weeks ago, along with a demand that he try them on and "see that they fit properly." He'd ignored the request then, and fortunately they seemed to fit just fine. As a credit to Narcissa's fine taste, they were the latest fashion: sleek, black, high-collared, with a subtle Victorian flair. Pansy would be delighted, he was sure.

Vince and Gregory sat on their respective beds, wrestling with their socks (Gregory's legs were so long he had difficulty reaching them; as for Vincent, his legs were perfectly within reach, if it weren't for his enormous girth). Blaise, already groomed to perfection, walked up behind Draco and fussed with his own hair.

"What's her name again?" Draco asked, referring to the Beauxbatons girl Blaise had asked to the ball.

"Alyssa. Alyssa Duchovny," Blaise answered boredly. "Everyone calls her Alice, but she obviously prefers that I call her Alyssa. She blushes every time I do."

The darker-skinned Slytherin pulled on the sleeve of his dress robes. His were similar in fit to Draco's, though the collar wasn't quite so high, and he opted to forgo the traditional tie as well. Unlike Draco, however, Blaise's robes were a dark, velvety green color; that particular shade complemented his skin richly.

"You seem _so_ enthused," Draco said.

"She's decent," was Blaise's only reply.

They heard a muffled commotion from down the hall, in the direction of the common room. It sounded like every girl in Slytherin had arrived at once, all calling out to each other in shrill voices and exclaiming about expensive dresses or jewelry. Draco and Blaise shared a look of reluctance.

"Guess that's our cue," Draco said. He took a deep breath.

"Let's hope the food is good," mumbled Vince mournfully, breaking the anxiousness. The boys laughed nervously before heading out of the room.

At once Draco could see the girls, and it was as he'd feared. All twenty-something of the older Slytherin witches stood about the common room, their expressions varying from nervousness to excitement to keen expectance. They were a rainbow of various colors, though they all seemed to be wearing floor-length gowns of some sort.

A frilly, rose-pink dress separated itself from the crowd and Draco realized immediately that Pansy was attached to it. She'd curled her hair and pulled those awful bangs out of her face, Draco noted. She smiled at the boys, flashing her white teeth.

"Finally ready, are you?" she chided, ignoring the others completely. She set her gaze on Draco.

"I've been ready," he argued. "In fact, I expected you'd prefer to arrive late. You know, be fashionable and that rubbish."

Pansy laughed piercingly.

"Don't be ridiculous! The ball starts with dinner. Who wants to be late for that?"

Someone, one of the girls, announced that it was six o'clock. That set a flurry of students into motion, all ruffling their skirts or picking nervously at their ties, funneling through the door to the dungeons. They made the trek up the stairs as a group, though Pansy clung to Draco's arm the entire way. He wasn't sure what to expect, but dinner did sound nice.

When they made it to the Great Hall, everyone seemed to stop and stare at once. They weren't the only ones, either; students of all houses and schools had gathered by now, and they admired their surroundings with awe. The magicked ceiling revealed nothing but diamond-like snowflakes drifting about, landing perhaps in one's hair but not on the tables and plates. Giant fir trees had been placed along the walls, each decorated with silver tinsel and glass ornaments. Draco realized that, if you looked carefully, many of the ornaments bore the school crests of those in attendance.

The tables themselves weren't the usual banquet-style, but many smaller, rounded tables sprinkled throughout. Each was draped in an elegant white and silver tablecloth, which the china and chairs matched.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Pansy sighed. Then, without warning, she tugged on Draco's sleeve and started hauling him off to claim their seats.

Blaise ended up bringing Alyssa over, who wore a modest, silky black gown, and they sat and chatted while everyone filed into the hall and found places to sit. Eventually a pair of sixth-year Ravenclaws took the other two seats. The lady of the pair, a blonde in shiny gold robes, offered quick compliments to Pansy and Alyssa for their dresses, after which the Ravenclaws ignored them for the rest of the meal.

Draco ordered roast pheasant (it didn't take long to realize that the china was charmed, and it would take his order) and sipped on bubbly champagne while discussing Beauxbatons with Blaise and Alyssa. She didn't have the same thick accent as the others, so she wasn't half as dull to speak with. Blaise lounged back in his chair, hardly touching his food, and looked thoroughly bored already. He stared off at another table.

Pansy, at least, was difficult to please. She pushed her plate away after two bites and announced that her own house elf cooked a better meal. Draco recommended that Pansy go home and eat then, which shut her up before she could complain much more.

It was around seven, after a dessert course of creme brulee, when Dumbledore stood from his seat at the head of the hall.

"And now, dear students, I believe it is time to partake in some dancing. If you'd please step aside."

Dumbledore waited for the students to get up and shuffle to the edges of the room. As they did so, their tables and chairs vanished.

"It is a long-standing tradition that the Yule Ball will begin with a waltz," Dumbledore said, his smile reaching his eyes. "And so, would our Tri-Wizard Champions please take the floor?"

Draco groaned. The last thing he wanted to see was Potter soaking up the limelight. He spotted a beverage table at the back corner of the hall, which must have appeared as the dinner tables had been swept away.

"Bugger this, I'm getting a drink," he said. As an afterthought he turned to Pansy. "Want anything?"

" _Shh!_ " she waved him off impatiently as the music started up, craning her neck to watch.

 _Whatever_ , Draco thought. He wove his way through the crowd and got himself a glass of punch - apparently the champagne only lasted through the dinner course, a wise decision on their professors' part - and he stepped out into the entrance hall. The great oaken front doors stood open to the chilly night air, and led out to a patio and garden that didn't exist even a few hours ago. Fireflies flitted about, and an ornate fountain bubbled off in the distance.

 _Who knew?_ he mused. _Our stuffy old professors have some taste, after all._

If he'd come with a romantic date, he thought that the garden would be an excellent place to escape to. From the patio, the music from the ball drifted through, inviting a private dance. Not that Draco planned on bringing Pansy out here, but with someone else it might have been ideal.

Maybe he should have asked a Beauxbatons girl. Someone with long legs who wouldn't try to make Draco into the perfect boyfriend - someone who could dance and flirt for an evening (or perhaps a bit more) and then move on.

"Draco!" Pansy called. He cringed.

"Coming," he replied, and then joined his friends back at the dance, which was now in full swing.

They congregated by the beverage table, the boys more interested in talking than anything else. Vince and Gregory hadn't managed to find dates, though Draco knew that Greg at least had caught the interest of a fifth-year Hufflepuff. For now though he just sauntered about with his hands in his pockets, joking with Blaise and Draco.

After a few minutes, Pansy nudged Draco in the side.

"What?" he asked.

"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" she replied.

"I, er..." Draco fought to come up with an excuse. Dancing with Pansy did not sound like fun, but he knew he'd have to eventually. "I'm not feeling up to it just yet. In a bit?"

She didn't respond, but crossed her arms and looked away.

Blaise watched the interaction closely. Pansy Parkinson was not an ugly girl, despite Draco's apparent aversion to her. Even Blaise thought of her more like a sister than anything, having been friends since their first year, but asking her for a dance certainly didn't appall him. What was Draco's problem?

As he watched, Blaise noticed Draco scanning the crowd, as though looking for someone. He frowned, then turned and mumbled something to Vince. They laughed.

"What's gotten into you two?" asked Alyssa, who Draco had all but forgotten about.

"We're thinking that Draco might be a tad _shy_ ," Blaise said, grinning at his best friend.

Draco felt himself color. "I'm not shy -"

"Oh yeah?" Blaise countered. "Feeling confident, then?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Draco demanded.

" _Ugh_ ," Pansy threw her hands in the air. "Twist his arm, why don't you? I'm going to find a Durmstrang boy. Or should I say, a _man_." She stormed off, the frills of her skirt flouncing as she went.

Draco, however, was still glaring at his friends. They hadn't answered his question.

"I'm not afraid of dancing, if that's what you think," Draco persisted. "I'm rather good at it - why are we even arguing about this? You've seen it for yourself. So what if I'm not in the mood to deal with Pansy?"

"Right, of _course_ ," Blaise said. "You're a right natural. Anyone would be _so_ lucky to dance with the great Draco Malfoy."

"What is your _problem?_ " Draco said, his temper rising.

"Bet you can't get a girl to dance," Vince cut in.

Draco grit his teeth. "Well, that's positively juvenile, on top of being an _insane_ bet. Of course I can get someone to dance, just watch me -"

"Any girl?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrow. Alyssa, at his side, watched the exchange a little too excitedly, in Draco's opinion.

"Yeah, _any_ girl," Draco spat. "Ten galleons, your pick."

He felt ridiculous saying it out loud, but his temper refused to let him back down now. Blaise, Vince, and Gregory looked at each other mischievously, as though they were in on a private joke.

"Krum's date," Vince announced, wearing a proud expression.

Draco winced - okay, so maybe he was going to lose ten galleons. After all, why would a girl dance with some fourth year when she could dance with a Quidditch star?

He craned his neck to find the pair out on the floor. Indeed, Krum had his arms around a dainty witch wearing a blue dress. Her back was to Draco, and all he could see was her brown hair tied elegantly in a knot above her lightly-tanned neck and shoulders. Probably a Beauxbatons girl.

"You're on," he said to the others. Alyssa clapped happily.

Draco set off among the dancers, weaving about and trying not to get stepped on. Fortunately, this song was a bit slower than a traditional waltz, and couples merely swayed back and forth with one another. All except one of the Weasley twins and his date, that Quidditch girl - Weasley pulled her about wildly, saying something Draco couldn't hear and eliciting a hearty laugh from her.

Swallowing back his fear, Draco set his eyes on Viktor Krum and made his way over. When he neared, Krum looked up at him, still holding his anonymous date.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to cut in," Draco said as suavely as he could. Though Krum's eyes were narrowed, Draco turned to bow at the girl in blue.

He froze.

Staring back at him, her expression a mixture of shock and anger, was Hermione Granger. With her hair so sleek and shiny, and without the bulky school uniform on, Draco never would have guessed that it was _her_.

Now she glared at him indignantly.

"Granger?" Draco stammered, straightening. His hand, which he'd offered in her direction, snapped back as though he'd been bit. "Wha - _how_ \- what happened to you?"

This was clearly not the right thing to say.

" _Excuse_ me?" she snapped. Her eyes, which seemed much brighter than usual, flared.

"You haff your answer, I think," Krum added.

"Wait - no," Draco backed up, shaking his head. "I wouldn't, not _ever._ I didn't mean it."

Somewhere in the background, a burst of laughter erupted. Hermione's face slid from furious to hurt in a heartbeat, looking over Draco's shoulder. Surely that was his friends laughing, he knew. But it wasn't at Hermione's expense - it couldn't be, not when she looked like _that_.

From her expression, though, Hermione couldn't tell as much. She looked like she'd been slapped.

"Er," Draco knew he should retreat, especially since they seemed to be drawing attention to themselves. He didn't know exactly why he stayed. "No, they're not laughing at you. It's _me_ \- they're just making fun -"

"And of _course_ they'd think it's funny," Hermione hissed, the anger back in her eyes. "You, the great pureblood Draco Malfoy, ask the _dirty_ mudblood to dance? How ridiculous, she's hardly even human, isn't that right?"

She tore herself away from Krum and planted her hands on her hips. She lowered her voice.

"You couldn't just let me have one night, could you?"

Her words stung.

"What's going on?"

Ron Weasley, flanked by Harry Potter himself, burst through the crowd of now-still dancers. He looked a bit crazed (with jealousy, Draco imagined, seeing Hermione there with Krum) and glared back and forth between Draco and Viktor. He didn't seem to know who to be mad at.

"It's nothing, Ronald," Hermione said. "I'm getting a drink, that's all."

At that she stormed off, but in her flowy, ice-blue gown, it was almost hard to imagine the way she stomped in frustration. Krum hesitated only a second before following her - not without shoulder-checking Draco first, however.

" _Shite_ ," Draco muttered, stumbling back a step at Krum's shove.

" _You_ ," Ron growled, now pointing at Draco. " _What did you do?_ "

"Ron, let's just go," Harry urged, not liking the way the Great Hall seemed to have frozen to watch.

"Right Weasley, just go," Draco muttered. He didn't want to deal with this right now.

"You're a slimy git, you know that?" Ron spat, before Harry grabbed his arm and turned him away. Thankfully, that was the end of it.

Slinking back to the edge of the hall, and ducking his head from the curious stares that followed, Draco sighed in relief when the music cued up again. This time, it was something more upbeat, and the students were easily distracted by it.

Not stopping to face his friends' triumphant jeers, Draco continued directly outside, into the frigid winter air, and took off to find a place where he wouldn't be bothered. He really needed to think.

* * *

 **A/N:** As always, thank you for reading! I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Things will get really interesting from here, and start to deviate more and more from canon.

I'd like to point out that when Blaise notices Draco looking around the hall, that doesn't necessarily mean that Draco's actually seeking out Hermione. Blaise is really concerned about Draco's attraction, and I think he's getting a bit over-protective. So in Blaise's eyes, it looked like Draco was distracted by Hermione, and that's why he didn't want to dance with Pansy. Anything going on in Draco's head is still mostly subconscious - or, it was. ;)

Your reviews have been lovely to read. You guys are the best.

Thanks all,

PennyDreddful


	6. The Second Task

**Chapter Five: The Second Task**

Draco stalked out to the gardens - well, he hadn't _stalked_ as much as _fled_ , had he? He needed to escape all those curious gazes and regain his composure. He wandered the garden until he found the most secluded little niche, a wooden bench nearly surrounded by bushes, and it was there that he finally sat and placed his head in his hands.

 _What just happened?_ he thought, rubbing his face.

He could still feel the embarrassment - not only from the bystanders who'd seen the whole thing, but from knowing that his own friends had set him up for it. And from knowing that his chances of befriending Krum were now in the negatives.

But, more than all that, he just remembered her face.

It's not that she looked like a different _person_. Draco supposed he'd known all along that Hermione was fairly pretty, he'd just always focused on her rat's nest of hair and the loads of books she always carried around. But to see her like _that_ , in a clingy, fluttery blue dress, with her hair smoothed and pulled back out of her face, cheeks flushed...

Draco sprang up from the bench and set to pacing.

Alright. So the know-it-all muggle-born was pretty. Big deal. She wouldn't be the first. So why should Draco be ashamed? He certainly wasn't the only one who'd seen her, and her beauty had of course been undeniable. Any sane wizard in attendance would admit as much, he was sure.

It wasn't like he _wanted_ her, after all.

Running his hands through his hair, Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That was exactly the problem, wasn't it? Now it looked like he wanted her. Hermione Granger. It was laughable, really. The mousy girl he'd always made fun of. Who in their right minds could accuse Draco of having any real feelings toward her?

Draco sank back down onto the bench. Blaise, Vince, and Gregory sure thought he did, didn't they? Or they wouldn't have found it half as funny - no, they probably wouldn't have made the wager to begin with. He'd have to set them straight.

They weren't the only ones, though, Draco realized. Forget about the dozens of witnesses, but now Hermione, Krum, Weasley, and Potter all probably thought Draco fancied the girl. Really, he should march right back in there -

Standing up again, Draco set off at a brisk pace, wearing an expression of pure determination.

 _Yes, that's it. I'll tell Hermione right to her face that there is no way in_ hell _I'd fancy her. That should do it._

His steps slowed.

Her face came back to mind - that beautiful, furious face, her jaw clenched and eyebrows drawn together, eyes alight with anger. Not only her face, but the bared neck and shoulders (which were really much daintier and more tanned than Draco had ever imagined) and that blue dress, which seemed to barely hang on to her slight curves. Really, Draco was surprised that it would stay up at all, it seemed that any moment that delicate neckline might slip -

Draco realized with a jolt that he'd stopped walking entirely. He spun on his heel and strode back to the bench, shaking his head of those thoughts. It would do no good to approach Hermione again if he might end up slack-jawed and speechless, which suddenly seemed very likely.

 _What is_ wrong _with me? She'd just a mudblood_.

That word seemed entirely inappropriate now. It was, after all, the root of their little rivalry these last few years... But, now that he thought of it, he hadn't called her a mudblood in a very long time. At least, the word hadn't come out of _his_ mouth. He wasn't even sure when he'd last thought of the term in conjunction with thoughts about Hermione Granger.

 _Not that I think about her, ever_ , Draco thought immediately. He paced anxiously in front of his bench. He sat.

He stood immediately.

 _Bloody hell,_ do _I think about her?_

This was too much. Draco groaned, gave the bench a good kick, and decided to go to bed for the night. And if he saw Blaise, Vince, or Gregory on the way, he just might hex them.

...

In the weeks following the Yule Ball incident, Draco found himself spending a lot more time alone. He still hadn't forgiven his friends for their little stunt, and he knew he'd hear about it over the rest of winter holiday (as it turned out, several high-profile Ministry members had been in attendance) so he had no lack of frustration about the whole thing.

Lucius, as Draco imagined, hadn't been happy. Their small family sat around the end of their least-formal dining table - which would still comfortably seat twenty guests - and ate dinner in silence. It was three days before Draco was to return to Hogwarts. He counted down the minutes with dread.

"I heard some interesting news the other day while at work," Lucius had said, not looking up from his meal. "I had the great misfortune of sharing the lift with Ludo Bagman. Do you remember him, Draco?"

Draco paused, chewing his food slowly. "I'm afraid not, father."

"Ah. Just as well, the man's an imbecile," Lucius said. "Though he mentioned that he was able to attend that Yule Ball. It sounded... eventful."

By now Lucius was peering at Draco snidely, taking a sip of blood-red wine. Narcissa, on the other hand, looked between the two of them, maintaining composure through her confusion.

Draco swallowed. "I didn't stay for much of it."

"No, but it didn't take much, did it?" Lucius said. He was entirely too calm.

At this point, Narcissa dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then spoke. "Lucius, dear, what is this about?"

"Our son seems to be struggling with some... _inappropriate_ feelings." Lucius sneered in Draco's direction. "He made as much clear when he asked a muggle-born to dance. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco's face grew uncomfortably warm. He tugged at his collar. "It wasn't like that," he started.

"No, it wasn't, was it?" Lucius clipped. "Not only did our son display affection for that _foul_ muggle, but she then rejected him. What humiliation to bring upon our family."

"It wasn't like that!" Draco repeated. "I didn't know it was Her- that it was Granger, okay?"

"Granger?" Narcissa said. "As in, Hermione Granger? Friend of Harry Potter?" She blanched visibly.

His anger rising, Draco stood and threw his napkin on his plate. He'd had enough.

"I said, _it wasn't like that_. I'm finished, good night."

He strode to the door of the dining hall, rage coursing through his body, when Lucius spoke again.

"I trust you will be more discerning in the future."

It wasn't a question, or even a statement. It was an order. Draco didn't acknowledge his father's words aside from a brief pause in his steps.

So, it was safe to say that Draco's holiday hadn't been entirely pleasant. He was almost looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, if it weren't for that lingering worry that the other students all knew. _Surely_ they all knew, and the moment he set foot on the grounds, he'd be pursued by whispers and pitying glances.

 _Poor Draco Malfoy and his unrequited love_ , he thought. _Now there's a story for that Skeeter woman_. He just prayed it wouldn't reach her ears.

But classes resumed as normal, and contrary to Draco's expectations, no one paid him any extra attention. Vince and Gregory must have forgotten it had even happened (that, and they were preoccupied with the remainder of their Christmas sweets) and Blaise seemed a bit more withdrawn than usual, but otherwise it all seemed very ordinary. And since Draco made sure to arrive on time to every class, he was able to avoid interacting with Hermione Granger.

The students, of course, were building up hype over the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and Draco gratefully let himself get caught up in it. Buttons proclaiming "Potter Stinks" made the rounds, and Draco wore his as proudly as any other Slytherin, making sure to point it out whenever Harry was near. The attention-monger deserved it anyway.

The morning of the task, the students were awoken by their Prefects, who expected anyone attending to dress warmly and meet in the Great Hall. Not entirely sure what to expect, Draco donned his over-cloak and Slytherin scarf, tucking a cap in his pocket just in case.

"What do you suppose it is?" he asked Blaise, who was leaning casually against a wall in the entrance corridor.

Blaise shrugged. "No idea. Rumors have varied everywhere from thestral racing to fighting giant chickens. Who knows?"

"My bet's on the lake," said Pansy, who materialized at Draco's elbow. She leaned on him, but thankfully these days she wasn't as overtly flirtatious. "That Creevey boy was lugging his camera by, and I heard Professor Sprout ask him if it was water-proof."

Sure enough, before either of the boys could respond, Adrian Pucey interrupted. He called out to the Slytherins milling about in the Great Hall.

"A'ight you lot," he shouted, giving his wand a whirl over his head. It emitted a few red sparks, which got everyone's attention. "Follow me, and keep together."

The older boy, a sixth-year Prefect, didn't look very excited to be up and about at this time in the morning. Not that it was particularly early, but it was a general trend for the older students to sleep in well past eleven on the weekends; Draco couldn't fathom it, he himself being an early riser.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy fell in step shortly behind Pucey.

"It's a right shame, isn't it?" the Prefect said, glancing sideways at Draco. "No quidditch this year. It's blasphemy, that's what it is."

"You're not enjoying the tournament?" Pansy asked.

Draco snorted. "I don't see why we couldn't do both. It would give Potter a real run for his money."

Pucey, however, wasn't listening, but still muttering to himself about quidditch. He was leading the students down the sloping lawn of the castle and around to the lake, where a gaggle of robed officials and reporters waited. The typically-empty dock was surrounded by many small boats (not unlike the ones used to transport first years before sorting) and, out in the middle of the water, a towering structure stood. It looked like a section of the quidditch bleachers had been transplanted and set on buoys.

"Told you," Pansy said, grinning.

It took a while for all the students to arrive at the bleachers and situate themselves, and meanwhile the biting cold hadn't lessened any. Draco pulled out his wool hat and yanked it over his ears. The Weasley twins walked by once or twice, making wagers and hawking miniature telescopes and fire-full licorice, but they didn't receive much business in the Slytherin section of the stands.

After what seemed like an hour, Dumbledore's voice blasted over the wind and chattering audience.

"Welcome, dear friends, to the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament!"

The stands first erupted in applause, then quickly fell silent. Draco, seated only one row from the front, had to crane his head to even glimpse the headmaster's garish purple hat - for the most part, he could only see the lake.

"Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions," Dumbledore explained. "Something of _great_ value. Our champions will have the next hour to find it, and to bring it back. But be warned, for there are many dangers lurking within our lake's waters." His voice switched from grave to unbearably chipper. "And so, with no further ado, let the task begin!"

Somewhere below the bleachers came the thunderous bang of a cannon; not a full second after, Draco saw two swimmers dive gracefully into the water, quickly followed by a third.

Pansy gasped.

"Did you see that?" she said, standing for a better view. "Krum! He - he turned himself into a _fish!_ "

"Not a fish," Blaise said. "A shark."

Then a great splash announced the fourth competitor. It seemed that Harry had been shoved overboard, and he entered the water in a clumsy sprawl.

"And there's Potter," Draco muttered. Blaise smirked, sharing a look that said clearly, _what a surprise._ The fans in the bleachers waited through the following minutes with an intense excitement, whispering to one another and still trying to get a good view of the water below. As time went by, however, it became clear that this event wouldn't include much for the spectators.

Fortunately, the professors must have anticipated as much. By the ten-minute mark, every pair of hands held a steaming mug of hot chocolate or butterbeer. Draco, for one, sipped his cocoa gratefully.

"Did you hear?" A few seats away, a younger Ravenclaw ran up to sit with his friends. "They took _people_. The professors charmed actual _students_ and then chained them to the bottom of the lake! Professor Flitwick was talking about it."

"People?" Blaise repeated. The younger boy shrank back a bit under Blaise's scrutiny. "And what if our champions don't succeed in bringing them back? What then?"

The boy paled. "Didn't say."

"Well who'd they take, then?" demanded Pansy.

"You will find out, I suppose, at the end of the task." Suddenly, Professor McGonagall strode by. She must have been attempting to keep some kind of order over the students, most of whom were quite rowdy now with all this down time. "And have faith, Mr. Zabini, your professors aren't nearly so diabolical as to leave children _indefinitely_ in the hands of mermen and grindylows." Her eyes snapped upward, and she frowned sternly somewhere toward the back of the stands. " _Mr. Weasley!_ I hope those aren't bets you're taking!"

McGonagall lifted the hem of her emerald-green cloak and clambered off into the bleachers.

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at Draco. "Well. This should be interesting."

Word quickly spread amongst the crowd, and by the thirty-minute mark, anticipation heightened. Personally Draco found it barbaric that their teachers would use students as live bait, but then he'd been questioning Dumbledore's ethics for years. He'd made as much clear weeks earlier when Rita Skeeter came asking around about Hagrid, who Draco hadn't trusted since the incident with Buckbeak.

Shouts arose from down below. The water in front of the stands rippled as bubbles frothed to the surface; soon students were jumping to their feet to see. Draco stood up on his seat just in time to see the tips of a murky, twisted trident burst out of the water. It was followed by the thick bluish arm and torso of what could only be a merman - and he was holding a body.

"At thirty-four minutes, Miss Fleur Delacour has been eliminated from the challenge," Dumbledore announced. Already, multiple adults had arrived at the edge of the dock to pull Fleur out of the merman's arms. One of them, Draco noted, was Madam Pomfrey.

"Bloody hell," Draco said. He sank back into his seat.

The rest of the task consisted of about a half hour of nothing whatsoever, followed in quick succession by many things at once. First, two more people splashed to the surface, and this time they were both human (and conscious). Cedric Diggory had arrived one minute past the hour with his charge, Cho Chang. They were soon followed by Viktor Krum in all his half-shark glory, who shook his head furiously once above water. His face changed back to normal.

Something in Draco's chest seized.

Krum pulled Hermione Granger up after him. Her hair hung in a dense sheet over her face, until Krum brushed it back with a light splash. She smiled at him as they tread water, but soon the officials had yanked the pair up onto the dock. Draco found himself watching this interaction a little too closely.

It didn't take long for Potter to make his grand entrance, and of course he towed not only his own, but _both_ remaining hostages. Draco nearly groaned aloud, but instead stood silently and made his way to the stairs. He didn't want to bother with the rest of the ceremony, and he'd certainly hear enough about it later.

He stepped onto the lower dock, where a great deal of commotion was still underway, what with reporters and students trying to get the best view of the action. Draco sneered at them and walked in the opposite direction, toward the rowboats. They wouldn't leave for the castle until the festivities ended, he knew, but he didn't feel like waiting and getting caught in the crowd. Besides, he wanted to be alone.

On the other side of the dock, sopping wet and clinging to a large dry blanket, Hermione Granger saw a familiar blond walking off on his own. Anger burned in her chest as she thought back on the Yule Ball, and the humiliating stunt that Draco had pulled that evening, but then Viktor was tucking her hair back out of her face, and she found herself swept up again in the excitement of the tournament.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hooray for updates! I loved writing Draco's pacing scene. I had it finished immediately after posting the Yule Ball chapter, but life caught up with me and it took a few days to hash out the rest of it. Thank you all for reading, and especially those of you who have reviewed so far. Special thanks to _hpfan addict_ and _frogster_ for giving me such in-depth feedback to mull over. Also, on a related note, I'd like to apologize for my re-wording of a few notable quotes. I find that among fanfics, it's become the norm to take direct quotes from the movies or books, because let's face it, they're the best. I have taken to adjusting them here or there because when I see them verbatim in other fanfics, I tend to skim or skip those parts altogether. It's just a cliche to me. But, like I said, I'm sorry if it's annoying to the rest of you!

Also, a few notes:

You might find Lucius's reaction to be pretty light toward Draco. However, Voldie's not resurrected just yet, and so he's not at large. If he was, then you can bet Lucius would have blown up over it. As it is, however, I don't think he'd want to discuss that kind of embarrassment any more than he'd have to.

Blaise is being withdrawn, not that we saw much of that in this chapter. We will. He has his own stuff going on.

I'm sorry if you found the task itself dull. I got caught up in it, because it was fun to imagine how that all played out for the students watching. It's funny to me to think that they basically got to sit and stare at the lake for an hour. Haha. And no, Fred and George's telescopes didn't help any - not that they knew before the task began (nor did any other students) that they wouldn't be helpful. Also, fire-full licorice doesn't exist. Obviously.

Prepare yourselves, next chapter will feature some Draco-Hermione confrontation! You have been warned.

PennyDreddful


	7. Girls, or About Daphne Greengrass

_A/N: For the purposes of this story, Daphne is one year above Draco. Also, Exploding Snap is played much like Village Idiot, not like Memory (which, I hear, is technically the correct way to play it)._

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Girls, or About Daphne Greengrass**

That day Draco walked away from the Second Task, and away from the drama of it as well. Sure, it seemed that everywhere he went other students were discussing the tournament, but Draco managed to tune them out altogether. Once again, he ducked his head and waded through the next few weeks of classes, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

Unfortunately, while rumors surrounding the Tri-Wizard champions were easy to ignore, the gossip surrounding Hermione Granger was not. Rita Skeeter was at it again, writing up her despicable articles about how Hermione was toying with the emotions of not only Krum, but Potter as well. Not long after those allegations surfaced, Draco watched as every afternoon dozens of owls dropped mail onto Hermione's lap - the first time he noticed this occurrence, she had opened an envelope, then immediately shot back out of her seat like she'd been burned.

Pansy didn't help ease Draco's sanity any. True, she'd long since given up on starting a romance with Draco (he assumed so, anyway) so that wasn't an issue, but any time a new Skeeter article was posted, Pansy would read it aloud in the common room and delight in Hermione's poor reputation. Draco hated it.

Still, Draco ignored it all as best he could.

Then one day, while lounging in the common room with Blaise and Vince, Draco found himself an excellent distraction.

It was a Tuesday evening and the three sat around a table playing exploding snap. They'd made it back after dinner early, and so they had the common room mostly to themselves.

"Is Gregory with his girlfriend again?" Blaise asked, directing the question to Vince.

Vince grunted irritably.

"That bad, huh?" Draco said. He selected a card from his hand and tossed it on the table. They all cringed, but this time the deck didn't combust.

"She's the worst," Vince said, running a hand through his short hair. He threw down his own card - still nothing. "I never see him anymore. And when I do, she's hanging all over him. _Ugh_."

"Eh, he'll figure it out," Draco said. "I bet they don't last another month. You'll see."

Blaise slid his own card onto the pile with an elegant flick of his wrist. He didn't even wince this time.

"He better." Vince ground his teeth together.

They continued playing in silence, getting gradually more anxious as their hands dwindled in cards. The deck would have to explode at some point, after all.

After a few minutes, Blaise suddenly leaned toward Draco. "Don't look now, but I'd say you have an admirer."

Draco snorted. "Very funny. Well if Pansy's back already, she really should come play -"

Ignoring Blaise's advice, Draco turned to survey the rest of the common room. Pansy wasn't anywhere to be seen, but that wasn't what caught Draco's immediate attention; sitting in the centermost couch beside the fire, with her long pale legs crossed at the knee, sat a beautiful blonde girl. She had a notebook in her lap and was twirling a quill idly. Her eyes were on Draco.

Draco turned immediately back to the table.

"Daphne Greengrass?" He said, sounding confused.

Blaise and Vince sniggered.

"Don't sound so surprised," Blaise said. He reclined back in his seat. "Oh, and it's your turn."

"But - but she's a _fifth_ year," Draco argued. He selected a random card (he only had three left) and tossed it on the pile. "What would she want with _me?_ "

"I don't know, but I wouldn't be asking too many questions," Vince said.

Blaise smiled coolly in the girl's direction. "He's right, mate. I wouldn't be asking questions, either... Unless it was asking her to Hogsmeade."

 _Hogsmeade?_ Draco thought. It didn't sound unappealing. But really, Daphne Greengrass, easily the prettiest girl of her year - would she actually say yes?

 _BANG._

The pile of cards blew up in a great puff of smoke and sparks - out of the smoke, cards spewed up into the air and fluttered back down to the floor.

Vince laughed heartily - apparently Blaise had placed the exploding card, and now his usually-flawless appearance was ruined, with soot covering half his face and shirt and his hair sticking out in odd directions. Draco smirked at his friend, who merely grimaced.

"You look like you could use a hand," said a light, melodious voice.

Daphne now stood at Vince's shoulder and leaned against the side of his chair, but her eyes, once again, remained on Draco. She was slender and her thick blonde hair was cut simply at her shoulders, accentuating her small frame. From here Draco could tell that her eyes were light blue. They appraised him curiously.

"Guess I need to get cleaned up," Blaise said, standing up from his seat. He gave Draco a quick nod before walking off to the dorms.

"Bet he needs help," Vince muttered stupidly. He followed suit.

Then it was just Draco, and Daphne Greengrass. Draco tugged at his collar, trying to regain his composure.

"Draco Malfoy, right?" Daphne asked, sliding into the seat Vince had just left.

"Yes," Draco said. Then, as if he'd only just remembered how conversations worked, he asked, "And you're Daphne? Daphne Greengrass?"

She smiled pleasantly. "Yes, that would be me."

Daphne began picking up the stray cards from the table and stacking them neatly together again. Draco watched her slender hands work delicately, forgetting to offer any help. She then pulled a thin cherry-wood wand from the pocket of her sweater and waved it over the floor; the rest of the cards flew into her grasp.

"So," she said, shuffling the cards neatly. "Shall we?"

Draco stared at her for a moment. "Uh, play? Are you sure?"

Her smile took on a mischievous glint. "I'm not afraid of a little Exploding Snap, Draco."

With that, she dealt out the cards. They played for the better part of an hour, and Draco grew more comfortable as that time went by. It was nice to have something to do, and not to be stuck just staring dumbly at the beautiful girl next to him. Once the pleasantries were out of the way, their conversation moved onto classes. Draco found himself impressed that Daphne wasn't bringing up the Tri-Wizard Tournament or any of the rumors surrounding it. In fact, she even seemed quite intelligent.

 _BANG_.

For the fourth time that hour, the deck of cards exploded. This time they were both less lucky in avoiding the puff of smoke, which they had managed quite well so far, and when it cleared Draco found himself laughing. He could feel soot on his face and was sure he looked ridiculous, but he didn't care very much. He was actually having _fun._

Daphne laughed along with him. It was a nice sound.

"Well just look at you," she said, still grinning. "You're covered in it."

Then she reached one of her small hands across the table and placed it on Draco's cheek. The smile faded quickly from Draco's face, replaced by a look of surprise. Daphne's thumb rubbed softly over his cheekbone, and then his eyebrow. She smiled again, withdrawing her hand.

"Not perfect, but still much better," she declared proudly. "How do I look?"

 _You could be covered in mud and you'd_ _still_ _be prettier than half the girls in school_ , Draco mused. Instead of voicing that particular thought, though, he merely said "You, ah... You look great."

He swallowed hard and decided to take a risk. He reached out a hand and wiped a dark smudge off of Daphne's sharp jaw. It didn't help much, but the feel of her soft skin on his fingers was _quite_ exhilarating.

Draco once again found himself staring very stupidly at Daphne. To her credit, the girl just smiled pleasantly back at him. When his hand trailed away, Draco could have sworn that Daphne leaned slightly into it, like she didn't want that touch to end.

"Can I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Draco asked, somehow sounding very confident.

Daphne grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

...

The prospect of dating, and especially of dating the most desirable girl of her year, certainly lightened Draco's mood. He didn't see much of Daphne in the days that followed, but that was probably for the better - he wasn't sure he could keep himself from turning into a blubbering idiot in her presence. It made him nervous.

Then Saturday came, and Draco found Daphne reading quietly in the common room. When she looked up she smiled radiantly, and Draco had to muster all his courage not to turn heel and run away. Surely it was a joke, and it would all blow up in his face like another card game. Surely.

But the day went smoothly... Very smoothly.

They walked the path to Hogsmeade together, their feet crunching in what snow had survived through March, and they talked. Draco asked what she'd been reading, and Daphne discussed her passion for healing charms. Daphne asked what Draco's post-Hogwarts plans were, and he mentioned his unrealistic desire to play quidditch professionally... And so on.

Most of the afternoon was spent sitting in the Three Broomsticks sipping butterbeers, and Draco couldn't be happier - for once, he could let go of everything else and just be in the moment. Daphne seemed to be enjoying herself as well. She smiled often and at one point even reached out a hand to touch Draco's arm when he made her laugh particularly hard.

Before he knew it, it was time for Draco to escort Daphne back to the castle. Draco wasn't looking forward to ending their date, but he'd have to say goodbye sometime.

As the pair made their way back up the snowy path, Daphne wrapped an arm around Draco's elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"It's been a lovely day, hasn't it?" Daphne sighed.

Draco couldn't help but grin. He was walking on air, himself. "It really has," he agreed.

"You know, Draco," Daphne said quietly, "I'd really like to do this again sometime."

Something in Draco's chest fluttered a bit. It occurred to him that he was getting by on pure chance; despite things having gone so well, it felt like he was about to say the wrong thing and ruin everything.

 _Just keep it together_ , he told himself. "I would like that, too," he said to her.

The towers and turrets of Hogwarts could now be seen silhouetted against the horizon, and a horrifying thought crossed Draco's mind: the kiss.

He nearly froze on the spot, but somehow managed to keep walking. Daphne didn't seem to mind trudging along in silence, which was good, because Draco probably wouldn't have heard anything she said anyway. His mind was far too preoccupied.

It's not like he hadn't thought about it already. To be honest, he'd thought about that and a _lot_ more in the last few days, but it was one thing to be lying in bed and imagining kissing a beautiful girl, and it was _entirely_ another to suddenly be nearing the end of their first date and have the prospect looming so close. Was his tie on too tight? It felt too tight.

Even worse, now that Draco considered it, was that Daphne had probably done her fair share of snogging in the past. And, well, Draco wasn't particularly experienced. Aside from one very misguided attempt with Pansy in their third year (Draco still shuddered at the memory) he had no physical experience whatsoever.

 _Oh Merlin_ , he thought, tugging at his collar. They were halfway up the sloping hill which led to the front entrance of the castle, and it was coming too fast. Where was he supposed to do it? Or what if - what if Daphne didn't _want_ him to kiss her? What if she'd actually hated every minute spent in his presence and she was just too polite to show it?

"Are you alright, Draco?" Daphne asked, cutting through that petrifying stream of thought.

"Er, yeah," he said. He cleared his throat. "I hope you had a good time today - I mean, I did. Had a good time, I mean." He cringed at himself.

Daphne only giggled. "Of _course_ I've had fun! I did say it's been lovely, didn't I?"

"Oh," Draco said. "Yeah, I suppose you did."

Daphne stopped. They had neared the stairs, which Draco now found rather ominous. He tried not to look at them.

Fixing Draco with a suspicious smile and placing her hands on her hips, Daphne narrowed her eyes at her date. "Draco Malfoy, have I made you _nervous?_ "

 _No, not a bit_ , Draco wanted to say. He almost did, too.

"I'm willing to bet you make most guys nervous," he admitted sheepishly.

He must have said the right thing, because at this, Daphne laughed like she'd never heard something so funny in her life. Then, before Draco could react, Daphne tugged on his tie and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He wasn't quite sure what happened after that.

...

Draco and Daphne spent the next two Hogsmeade outings together as well, and they were just as great as that first date. Even better though (in Draco's very biased opinion) were the evenings afterward, during which Daphne would lead Draco to a secluded corridor and proceed to snog his brains out.

It wasn't all going so smoothly, though. It was a bit of a shock for Draco when Daphne didn't sit by him for meals in the Great Hall, but would instead smile amiably and walk past him, toward a group of fifth- and sixth-year friends. The first time it happened, Draco was confused. After all, any other couple would sit next to each other at least sometimes, right?

But then she didn't always seek him out in her free time, either. Draco made himself available, sitting in the common room with nothing but a book for company most evenings, but still Daphne would walk through, say hello rather warmly, and then continue off to her dormitory. He didn't understand it at all.

Leading up to the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year, Draco figured it out. He had just gotten out of class, and had an essay due the next day in Transfiguration which he hadn't even started. With his bookbag slung over a shoulder and a sandwich in hand (he didn't expect to break for dinner) he nearly barreled through Daphne on his way out of the common room.

"Oh - Daphne, hey," he said.

"Draco? In a hurry, are you?" she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As always, she wore that lovely smile on her face.

"Unfortunately, yes," Draco said. "I think I'll be spending most evening in the library. McGonagall will kill me if I don't finish this essay." He readjusted the strap of his bookbag. "I'll get my homework done early this weekend - it shouldn't be too much. I was thinking we might have dinner in Hogsmeade, this time."

Daphne looked away, though her smile remained in place. "Hogsmeade? This weekend?" she asked.

"Well... yes?" Draco replied. "I thought - well -"

"Oh Draco," Daphne said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned before - only, Lee's asked to take me, and I said I would go. You understand, I'm sure."

A sinking feeling took hold of Draco's stomach. "Lee?"

"Well Lee Jordan, of course!" Daphne laughed. "He's quite funny. I think you'd like him." She paused, appraising Draco's lack of enthusiasm. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Draco. That wasn't very kind of me... But I hope you understand, it's all just good fun."

A lump formed in Draco's throat, making it difficult to respond. Daphne must not have noticed.

"You should ask someone to go with you," she suggested. "Maybe we can all meet up, or something."

"Right, yeah," Draco said. "Yeah, that sounds... I should go, I have a lot of work to do."

He set off down the corridor, his head ducked somewhat. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment.

"Draco?"

He stopped, and glanced over his shoulder. Daphne still smiled at him as though nothing was wrong.

"I hope we can still be friends."

 _Right, just bloody right we can still be friends_ , Draco seethed. He didn't respond, but took off again down the corridor. His embarrassment had slowly melted into anger - anger at himself for assuming he had something with Daphne, and anger at Daphne for wearing that stupid, happy smile like they'd just been exchanging pleasantries.

 _Whatever_ , he told himself. _Let her go have her fun with Lee. She's worth a good snog, but that's it. Good riddance._

For the rest of his walk to the library, he tried to believe as much. He really did. He thought back on their few dates and sure, he felt let down - he felt a kind of longing that wouldn't go away - but he tried to focus on the other things, like how she practically ignored him the rest of the time. How she seemed to smile at everything. Really, did she even _have_ other emotions?

As much as Draco worked to convince himself that he didn't care about Daphne's rejection, he was still in a foul mood for the rest of the evening. He headed to the back of the library, near the restricted section, where he knew the books on animagi were located. He even tossed his sandwich in a trash bin on the way, not feeling very hungry anymore.

When he rounded the corner of the aisle he needed, Draco stopped in his tracks.

 _You have got to be kidding me. Not_ this _too..._

There, sitting at the only table available, Hermione Granger sat poring over multiple open books. She'd shed her outer robes but otherwise still wore her uniform, with the sleeves of her blouse rolled up to her elbows and ink stains on her hands. Her mass of curly hair was tied in a loose, lopsided bun.

"Who knew, Hermione Granger's running late on her homework," Draco said, dropping his bookbag on the floor.

Hermione looked up and frowned at Draco. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you're talking about Transfiguration, I finished that assignment _days_ ago," she clipped.

"Then what's this?" Draco said, appalled. "Don't tell me it's more _light reading_."

Hermione pursed her lips and eyed the mess of books and notes she had spread out over the table. She chewed on her lip for a moment.

"No," she said finally, like the answer was somehow complicated. "No, it's kind of an extra project of mine."

Draco shook his head, but otherwise just turned to the shelves and started examining books. He knew a few good titles to use for research, and they were supposed to be here. He rubbed his face in annoyance when he couldn't find them.

"Bloody books," he muttered, now checking the surrounding shelves. He heard Hermione sigh.

"I suppose you'll need these, then," she said, snapping one of the texts shut. "I should go get some dinner anyway."

Draco dragged his bookbag over to Hermione's table and peered at the books she had out. She had about eight of them, and by the looks of it they all related to animagi, but Draco only really planned on using _The Contemporary Animagus_ and _Animagi Through the Ages_. He pulled up a chair and sat.

Hermione quickly gathered her papers - she had some extensive notes on the topic, Draco saw - and deposited them into her own over-sized satchel. A few of her odd quills were scattered about, and she started picking them up.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Draco snapped up the nearest quill and studied it.

"What _is_ this?" he asked. "Some muggle contraption, I suppose?"

Hermione huffed. "In fact, it is. Well, partly. I made them myself, if that's what you mean."

At her answer, Draco immediately dropped the quill.

"It's not going to _bite_ you," Hermione said. "Go on. Try it."

Draco looked at Hermione. She seemed serious, and rather impatient, so he gingerly picked up the quill again. The shaft of it was a bit thicker than he was used to, yet the nib was especially small and pointed. It wasn't slit at the nib either, which was highly unusual. He glanced around. "Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to give me some ink?"

Then, out of nowhere, Hermione laughed. She smiled broadly, though she didn't direct it at Draco himself.

"The ink is in the quill," she explained. "You people from all-wizarding families seriously underestimate the benefit of a nice pen. A traditional quill... well, in my opinion, they're pretty cumbersome."

Draco looked at the quill very curiously again, then timidly placed it against the page of an open book - sure enough, a dot of ink appeared. He raised his eyebrows.

"So muggles aren't _entirely_ useless after all," he said to himself.

Hermione snatched the quill out of Draco's hand, her expression freezing back over. She threw the quill into her bag and pulled the strap across her shoulders, shaking her head all the while.

"Enjoy writing that essay, Malfoy," she said. She didn't sound like she wanted him to enjoy it at all, though.

Draco stared after Hermione as she turned down an aisle and out of sight. Their interaction hadn't been bad, he'd thought. He was almost enjoying himself.

With a groan, Draco pulled at his hair.

Girls were confusing.

* * *

 **A/N** : I'M SORRY BUT IT NEEDED TO HAPPEN. Daphne had to happen _sometime_ , since I replaced her with Pansy at the ball, and I needed something to get Draco through the rest of the year. Ugh. I'm the worst.

I hope you found it somewhat enjoyable, at least. I have a very clear picture in my head of Daphne's character: she's that girl who knows she's pretty, and enjoys having a guy's attention. In Daphne's case, probably multiple guys. I'm also going to pretend that Draco doesn't know of Astoria until after he graduates (if he meets her at all, in this lovely AU...).

So the real confrontation between Draco and Hermione is still in the works - but it will happen, I assure you. He's going to set her straight once and for all.

Okay, I think that's all. Once again, thank you to my faithful reviewers, you know who you are. ;) And I love the critique - keep it honest! Sometimes I know my faults and I'm just hoping you guys don't notice them, and other times I need a straight-up reality check. Your thoughts mean so much to me.

Thank you all!

PennyDreddful

Edit: Thank you, _hpfan addict_ , for once again giving a very enlightening review! :)


	8. The Letter From Home

**Chapter Seven: The Letter From Home**

"Now then!" Professor Babbling clapped her hands together and, just as usual, they gave off a puff of chalk dust. She had wiped a good deal of it onto the front of her robes during class, which Draco took as a testament to how _goddamn_ much they'd be reviewing for their final. It was a miracle anyone could breathe, what with the multitudes of scribbles she'd put up and erased in the last hour.

Draco blinked, trying very hard to keep his eyes open. Not only was this period boring and dusty, but now with the spring weather, it was warm too. The combination made all the students drowsy - perhaps all but Hermione Granger, who never seemed to run out of enthusiasm for academics.

"I hope you've taken detailed notes this year," Babbling went on, "But in case you're found lacking, remember that this is all in your copy of _Spellman's Syllabary_. Of course, you'll need to sort through all three hundred pages, so you might consider finding a partner to help you study." She winked, like this was all elementary and fun.

At the front of the class, Hermione put her hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"You said that our final will cover translations," Hermione said. "Will we be expected to translate only from runes to the root language, or into English as well?"

"Excellent question," Babbling said. "You will be required to complete an English translation for a small set of runes -" This was met with audible groans from the class - "But, luckily for all of you, I will not require a translation from English into runic. Though it's never too late for me to change my mind on that."

Anyone who had groaned just a moment before now sat up a bit straighter, and a few students even shook their heads desperately.

"Right. I thought so." Babbling waved her wand, and a stack of parchments flew from her desktop into her hands. "Now, before you go, here are your graded assignments from last week. I hope you'll review them carefully."

The bell rang just then, followed by sounds of textbooks snapping shut and chairs scooting around. Professor Babbling looked a bit annoyed, but read out names quickly, trying to catch her students before they fled into the corridor. Draco gathered his things lazily and leaned against a window. He had time to spare.

Hermione, on the other side of the room, took her time as well. She seemed to be meticulously organizing her notes, and then bending over to quickly write something new here or there. Draco didn't even realize he was watching until Babbling called for him.

"Yes, Draco, well done," she said, handing him a parchment with a large blue A on it. "Though you did nearly have an O. Still, good work."

He didn't respond, just took the paper and looked down at it. He thought he'd have done better than that.

Pulling his bookbag over his shoulder, Draco carefully examined his homework as he meandered out of the classroom. Little blue slashes marked several of his short answers ("Poor handwriting might work in English, but in runes it will _not_ do!" was written in the margin) but thankfully the essay responses went untouched.

Not looking where he was going, Draco stepped squarely into another person.

"Ouch!" Hermione said, knocking back into the doorframe. She rubbed at her elbow.

"Oh - sorry," Draco sputtered, dropping his homework.

Hermione's eyebrows drew together. She looked confused, but thankfully, not upset. Her head tilted slightly.

"Are you... alright?" Draco asked. Not that she looked hurt, but it seemed like the right thing to say. He realized that having a non-hostile conversation with Hermione Granger wasn't something he could easily comprehend.

"Yes, of course," she said. "I can't say the same for your homework, though."

Suddenly Draco became aware of his surroundings - standing in the doorway to their Ancient Runes classroom, with multitudes of students milling past them. And, of course, his assignment was now underfoot.

Before he could react, Hermione drew her wand.

" _Accio_." The parchment sailed out of the path of a Ravenclaw's shoe and into Hermione's open hand. She frowned at it - the paper had crumpled up and bore several footprints. With another light wave of her wand, the parchment flattened out. She held it out to Draco.

"I assume you can clean it yourself?" She asked simply.

Draco accepted the parchment, not that he was looking at it.

"Yeah. I can, thanks," he said.

For the briefest moment, Hermione looked up at him. She wasn't glaring or wearing that disgusted expression like usual, not that she was really ogling him either. She just... _looked_.

Past the stream of students, leaning against the wall of the corridor, Blaise waited for the right moment to approach Draco. He'd been released early from Divination and thought he'd walk to Potions with his friend. It was on his way, after all.

When the door had opened a minute ago, Blaise wouldn't have expected to see Draco speaking so amicably with Granger. So when they bumped into each other and it didn't immediately result in a hex or tongue-lashing from the hot-headed witch, Blaise had to pause and watch.

He frowned. This was supposed to have been fixed months ago.

"Draco," Blaise said, walking across the hall.

Draco jumped and turned about.

"Blaise!" he said. "On your way to Potions?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes over Draco's shoulder, only just catching Granger's gaze; her face turned stony and she took off down the corridor, clearly getting the message.

Instead of answering Draco's question, Blaise spun slowly on his heel and stalked off in the opposite direction. They could afford to take the long route to the dungeons. It would be worth it to avoid another run-in with Granger, at any rate.

"Everything alright?" Draco asked, catching up. "Don't tell me Trelawny predicted _another_ death. I don't know why Dumbledore keeps that nutcase around."

"It's not Divination," Blaise said. He waited a beat. "You could say I'm worried about a friend."

"A friend, eh? Should _I_ be worried?" Draco laughed nervously.

Blaise, however, remained silent. The pair made the long walk to the dungeons without another word, and Draco's sense of foreboding increased with every step.

...

 _Draco,_

 _How are you, dearest? Your father and I miss you terribly. I trust that your classes are going well. You're too bright to have any troubles there, I know._

 _I'm writing to tell you something very important. Please understand, I cannot say all that I wish to in a letter. All will be explained once you are home for the holiday, you will just need to be patient until then. I know that might not be easy, not with what I ask of you._

 _You see, there has been talk among your father's friends. Talk that, if true, will change everything for us. Please don't worry, we will of course be fine, but it will require us to be more careful._

 _I understand that the final event in this tournament is only two weeks away, and I'm sure you're quite excited to attend... But Draco, you will not go. I could be wrong, but I think that something is going to happen that night. I do not know what, or where it will happen, but there will be something._

 _Do not tell anyone about this, not even Blaise or Pansy. And remember, everything is going to be just fine._

 _With all my love,_

 _Mother_

 _P.S. - Don't keep this letter._

Draco slowly lowered the note. He folded it in half, and then in half again, before tucking it carefully into his pocket. His instinct told him to read it again, to make sure it was really his mother's handwriting, but now wasn't the time.

He sat among the crowded Slytherin table during lunch hour, and had just filled a plate with potatoes and pot pie when the mail arrived. His parents didn't often send mail anymore, and when they did it was typically enclosed with a bright, silky ribbon with a loud green seal. This time it was plain. Draco wondered if his father knew about it at all.

He knew as much about the third task as anyone else at this point - part of the quidditch pitch had long since been dismantled and overrun with little green sprouts, and everyone knew it was a maze. Another great view for the spectators, obviously. Draco had already considered skipping it, but now, with his mother's warning...

Pictures of burning tents filled his head. The last time he'd heard of something like this, the last time he'd had a tip-off, the world cup had gone up in flames. And he'd regretted not saying anything.

Wasn't this the same thing? Wasn't this his opportunity to say something?

"Did I miss something?" Pansy asked, nudging Draco's elbow. He blinked, returning to the present.

"Only Draco going totally _mental_ ," Blaise spat.

Draco then realized what had Pansy concerned. She had Draco on one side, and Blaise on the other, and both boys had spent the entire meal with their backs facing her. Really, just now was the first time Blaise had acknowledged Draco's presence since before Potions, but she didn't know that.

"What?" she said.

"I don't know what his problem is," Draco admitted. It was half-true. He looked down at his plate, not feeling very hungry.

"I'm off, I think," he muttered, stepping back from the bench and heading out at a brisk walk.

"Oh - okay," Pansy said, still confused. Before she knew it, Blaise had done the same, and when she turned back, he was gone. " _Ugh_ , you too?"

"See you at dinner," Blaise called back to her.

Pansy glowered, stabbing at her lamb. "Whatever."

Draco had made it halfway to the dungeons when Blaise caught up to him. The darker-skinned boy jogged down one flight of stairs before falling into step just beside his blond friend. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground.

Draco shot a glare at Blaise, who wasn't looking. The whole point of leaving had been to find a quiet corner and be alone for a while - really, it wasn't _his_ fault that Blaise was having mood swings.

"Shove off," he said, before Blaise could say anything. He sped up a bit.

But Blaise kept pace easily, much to Draco's dismay.

"We need to talk," was all Blaise had to say. Draco whirled around, nearly drawing his wand; instead he shoved Blaise squarely in the shoulders. Blaise skidded back a step, but otherwise didn't budge.

"You're bloody _right_ we need to talk," Draco seethed. "But you know what? I can't deal with you and your raging hormones right now. So I don't know what your problem is, but it's going to _wait_."

" _My_ hormones?" Blaise repeated. He laughed. "I didn't realize that _my_ hormones were the problem. Here I thought _I_ was the one who had it in check."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Draco demanded.

"You know what it means!" Blaise said, raising his voice. For once, the ever-cool Blaise Zabini had lost his temper. "Do you have _any_ idea what's going on? Do you know how bad it'll be if you keep this up? Because last year was one thing, but now - now, things are about to be different, and you're going to get yourself _killed!_ "

Draco stepped back. "What are you going on about? Why am I getting killed off all of a sudden?"

For a moment, it looked like Blaise would continue shouting, but then his mouth snapped shut. He breathed out slowly, trying to keep collected.

"Look," he said. "I see the way you look at her, but she's a muggle-born. And in a different world, I wouldn't care, but we're in this world, and something big is happening. I think - I think _You-Know-Who's_ coming back."

Draco stared at Blaise for a moment without speaking. Blaise, mistaking this for skepticism, continued quickly.

"I know that sounds crazy, but my parents are scared, and they don't scare easily. And they're not even Death Ea- er, well, you know."

"I know."

Blaise winced. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to -"

"I _know_ ," Draco said again. He took a deep breath. "As it turns out, my mum might think the same. She wrote me today, actually. So your parents could be right... He's coming back." A chill ran down his spine. "She thinks something's going down during the third task."

Blaise's eyes widened. "Here? At Hogwarts?"

"Who knows?" Draco said. "But it doesn't sound good. She said not to tell anyone, not even you or Pansy, but that I shouldn't go to the task."

Not immediately speaking, Blaise wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered. If it weren't June, Draco might have believed it was just a chill that got to him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I've been a total arse," Blaise said. "Just... Like I said, I'm worried about you."

Draco had almost forgotten the original reason for their argument, and felt his face heating up at the reminder.

"I don't know what you think is going on -" he started.

"You fancy her."

"I - I do _not_ ," Draco returned, utterly indignant. Now he was _really_ flushed with embarrassment. "How could - you really _are_ barmy -"

"I thought that after the Yule Ball, you'd be over it," Blaise said calmly. "Honestly, I thought that was all it would take. And back then, I was just thinking about your family, and what your parents would have to say about it. Isn't that bad enough?"

Draco shook his head furiously. "That's not fair. You set me up for that. You know I'd never fancy Granger."

Blaise leveled Draco with a stare. "Do I?"

Once again, the pair fell into silence, each decidedly troubled.

Draco crossed his arms and glared at the floor. He hated that Blaise could think so little of him - really, to think he couldn't control his own emotions? That he couldn't keep himself from chasing the skirt of some muggle-born?

"It was for your own good," Blaise said quietly. "You had to see - one way or another, you had to finally see that it can't happen. Hermione Granger isn't an option. She never was."

"What's gotten into you?" Draco tried, though by now it felt very half-hearted. "What makes you think I'd look twice at her?"

Blaise stared at his friend, almost sadly. "You really don't see it, do you? You're not as subtle as you think. Trust me, I wish you were."

Draco felt utterly defeated. Up until now, he could at least _pretend_ that there wasn't some inkling of attraction between himself and Hermione. Now, that protective shield was shattered. He might as well have confessed to a crime, for how awful he felt.

Being the good friend that he was, Blaise spoke first.

"Let's go, mate. Try not to think about it."

"Right," Draco agreed. "I'll try."

...

If only, in that moment, Draco had known the impossibility of trying to forget something - or more accurately, someone. He couldn't tell if it was worse or better that he had the distraction of his mother's letter. In a purely selfish way, it was excellent, he supposed.

He sat in the library, away from other students and prying eyes, trying to concentrate on his Defense Against the Dark Arts review. Only he couldn't. Instead he pulled out that letter again, as he'd done every night in the last week. Now it was Saturday; the third task would take place in exactly seven days. And Draco had no idea what to do about it.

 _She's probably just blowing this out of proportion,_ he thought, folding the letter up again. _After all, she_ is _my mum. A mother's got to worry._

Still, it didn't sit well with him.

He sighed and tucked the paper back into his pocket, reminding himself to burn it later.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Draco glanced at a clock on the wall - half-past ten in the evening. And on a weekend, no less. How pathetic.

 _Better than watching Daphne snog Pucey all night_ , he mused. She had indeed taken to towing the prefect about, laughing inanely at whatever idiotic thing he said. Apparently Lee Jordan was too immature for her taste.

Draco scowled down at his notes. This wasn't very productive.

When he looked up, he nearly jumped out of his skin - without a sound, a very familiar witch had crept up to him, clutching a book to her chest.

"For the love of _christ_ , Granger," he choked out. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you. Moody?"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I mean, is that for Professor Moody?" Hermione said. She slowly pulled a chair out from the table and set her book down.

"Oh - er, yeah." Draco watched Hermione sit warily, and noticed a peculiar expression on her face, like she didn't know exactly what she was doing.

He didn't say anything, but just stared at her. His conversation with Blaise popped up in his thoughts, along with a sense of dread. Here he'd been avoiding exactly this kind of encounter. And why the hell was she sitting down?

Hermione chewed on her lip, eyes on her book. Her hair looked frizzier than usual.

"Did you need something?" Draco asked tersely.

She looked up quickly. "Oh, no, I just - well, everyone's here studying, and I thought you wouldn't mind..."

"Fine," he said. "I was done anyway."

"Wait, I don't mean to make you leave," Hermione insisted, landing her bright eyes on him. "I thought you didn't mind. Last time you sat at _my_ table, remember?"

"Whatever," Draco mumbled. He stood, gathering his relatively untouched notes.

Hermione scowled, crossing her arms.

"And here, I thought you were past this nonsense," she said. "But I guess I was wrong. Still can't bear to be seen fraternizing with a _mudblood_ , can you?"

"Would you _stop_ saying that?" Draco spat. "For fuck's sake, the only one calling you a mudblood anymore is _you_. And it's getting old."

Hermione shrank back at this sudden outburst, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head, and remained silent. Apparently he'd gotten through that dense bush of hair. He wondered fleetingly how many people had managed to do that.

"My mistake," she said quietly, and opened up her book to read.

Draco found himself standing there, quite stupidly, wanting to say something. He hadn't meant to lash out like that, but on the other hand, why should he care?

 _Here's your chance,_ he told himself _. Go now, and prove that it doesn't matter._

His feet didn't move.

"I thought you were leaving," Hermione said, still studying her book.

"I didn't mean to ask you to dance," Draco blurted out. Then, before he could stop himself, words flew out of his mouth like vomit. "I wouldn't have if I'd known it was you, Blaise and Vince put me up to it. It was their fault. I swear."

"What?" Hermione said, forgetting her notes entirely.

"I would never fancy you," he insisted. "It's just - it's important that you know that."

" _Why_ is it - oh, nevermind!" she said with a glare. "Thank you, again, for the reminder. Unless I'm on the arm of some _icon_ I'm not worth anyone's time, right? You and Ron should really have a chat sometime, you'd have a lot to agree on, there."

"What?" It was Draco's turn to be confused. "I didn't say that. Wait, did _Weasley_ -"

Hermione stood angrily, knocking her chair over. She snatched her book off the table and snapped it shut.

"Oh, bugger off, Malfoy," she hissed.

"No - no, _hang on_ -" Draco's head was spinning. Why did she insist on putting words in his mouth? It was unbearable. She made to storm off down the aisle, but Draco caught her arm, determined to set her straight. "That is _not_ what I said!"

She spun, stiffening a bit at his grasp on her arm. Draco let go.

"I don't understand you," Hermione said. The sincerity of that statement caught Draco off-guard again.

His hand fell to his side. Here, it was obvious that he stood nearly a head taller than her, and she looked up at him. That resigned glint in her eyes didn't fit; it just didn't _work_. Hermione Granger was not meant to be resigned. She was meant to be volatile and passionate, not... _This_.

It occurred to Draco that, for her, this wasn't just about the Yule Ball. Maybe it wasn't even about Draco. _You and Ron should really have a chat sometime,_ she'd said _. You'd have a lot to agree on._

"If he really thinks that, and Weasley's a bigger idiot than I thought," Draco said, ignoring Hermione's last statement. Then, almost inaudibly - "I didn't even think that was _possible_..."

For a moment, he hoped Hermione might smile, but instead she looked conflicted. The edges of her mouth pulled up a bit, but she looked down, almost sadly.

 _Aw, fuck me_ , he thought, his pulse quickening. This was when she was supposed to yell and run off, and yet there she was, clearly not going anywhere. Very far in the back of his head, something flickered. Something that ignored the reality of the situation and prodded him with two lousy words: what if?

Draco reached a hand to Hermione's chin and lifted her face, ignoring the alarm in her eyes as he did so, and he kissed her.

* * *

 **A/N** : That's right, I went there.

Thank you all for hanging in there. I think Draco's been really moody, but with all the stuff on his plate, it seems kind of reasonable. Hopefully I didn't take us too OOC.

Of course, there is _no canonical basis_ in regards to Narcissa's letter, I just thought it would add a bit of plot. Obviously Voldemort's rebirth was planned by the Death Eaters, so you'd think their families would catch on that something was happening. I originally meant to use that as the excuse for Draco to speak to Hermione, but after all her boy drama this year (and her utter disappointment in Ron, even after all that time) I can kind of see her spotting Draco in the library late one night and letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Look for a new chapter soon! Thanks again, you're all great.

PennyDreddful


	9. After the Fact

**Chapter Eight: After The Fact**

" _What the hell, Draco?_ "

That's what she was supposed to say, after pushing him away and giving him a good slap to the face. She would knock some sense into him, and squash that rogue "what if" for good.

Only, she didn't.

When Draco pulled Hermione's face up to his and pressed his lips to hers, she froze, probably from the shock of it. That was a good sign. It meant this was real. As he moved to kiss her, Draco slid a hand into her hair - which was fantastically, surprisingly soft - and gently drew her in, ready for that shove and a shriek of disgust.

Hermione stood rigidly, her hands braced lightly against Draco's chest, but then... She gave in.

She returned the kiss, much to Draco's surprise, tilting her head and opening her mouth just the slightest bit. Draco was caught between gasping in bewilderment and moaning in pleasure; this was nothing like Daphne. It dawned on him that he'd wanted this - wanted _her_ \- for ages, before Daphne ever happened, and maybe even before Pansy.

Hermione wrapped an arm around Draco's waist while her other hand reached up to his neck. Her thumb traced the edge of his jaw, and the intimacy of that touch had Draco wondering, just for a moment, if maybe she really wanted him too.

He deepened the kiss, pulling her tighter; Hermione obliged with every movement. When Draco sucked lightly on her bottom lip, she nipped his with her teeth. This time, he really did moan.

With a growl, Draco seized Hermione and spun her, pressing her small frame into a nearby bookshelf before wrapping his arms possessively around her. He felt her gasp - Merlin, what a sound - and he kissed her harder. Hungrily.

Hermione's heart raced, coursing with adrenaline, and she let her head fall back, trying to catch her breath. For the briefest moment Draco considered not letting her break away. Instead, at the sight of her something stirred in him... He leaned down and began kissing her neck. His hands moved to her waist, fingers digging into her sides.

He felt her hands against his chest, and tried to ignore them.

She pushed against him, though not roughly.

"Draco," she said, astoundingly calm for a person who'd just been snogging her sworn enemy.

He forced himself to stop. It was difficult, what with every cell in his being screaming for him to tighten his grip, to continue kissing down her throat.

"Draco," she said again, softly.

Not ready to look her in the eye, he kept his head ducked. Breathing heavily, Draco leaned his forehead against her cheek, trying not to let reality back in. He didn't know what to say, he just knew he needed to convince her not to walk away.

"I want you," he breathed.

Hermione went still.

"This... it doesn't make sense," she said in reply.

Draco took in a long breath. It was over.

He pulled away from her, still unable to look her in the eye. When he stepped back, running a hand self-consciously through his hair, he kept his gaze on the floor.

Hermione surveyed him cautiously, letting herself fall back against the bookshelf. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of things, but it simply could not.

"Why now?" she asked quietly.

His head shook slowly back and forth. "It's not just now."

"Since... Since the ball." Hermione didn't say it like a question, and Draco felt himself heating up at the resignation in her voice.

"Not the ball," he said, sounding harsher than he meant. "I'm not Weasley. I'm smarter than that."

Hermione stared at him, letting his words sink in. She didn't like how un-Draco-like he was behaving. Without his usual confidence (or arrogance, more honestly) he just seemed... Defeated.

She reached out and tugged on his tie. "Look at me."

Draco didn't want to, but it was impossible to say no to Hermione Granger. He raised his head, trying to keep himself composed, but instead he felt that thing stirring inside him once again. How could it not, when she looked up at him with those big, bright eyes, the topmost buttons of her blouse unfastened, and her lips a bit swollen and red from what he'd done to her?

He found himself utterly speechless, and just ground his teeth together. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"What does this mean?" Hermione asked.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," Draco said with a shrug. He couldn't let himself care.

 _Keep it in check_.

He nearly sniggered. Wasn't it a little late for that?

"You don't... Want it to?" she asked.

"I should go." Draco grabbed his books off the table, but hesitated.

"Wait," Hermione said. "Don't. What am I supposed to do with this?"

He didn't know the answer to that, not that it mattered. Something occurred to Draco, and while he knew he shouldn't say anything, he had to. He just... Had to.

"Hermione," he said, not looking at her, "Don't go to the third task."

A pause.

"What?"

"Just don't. Please." Draco winced. "For me."

He didn't wait to hear her reply - he'd already said too much. It was time to go.

...

Thank Merlin it was finals' review week. Draco probably wouldn't have remained sane if it weren't.

The evening after his run-in with Hermione (the very _exciting_ run-in...) Draco laid awake, tossing and turning, replaying the scene over and over in his head. It did him no good, at least not in the way of sanity. Every five minutes or so, he switched from despising himself for giving in, to cursing himself for having not been more persuasive. He didn't get any sleep.

He spent the entire next week avoiding any possible contact with Hermione while somehow keeping tabs on what she was up to. Judging by her constant proximity to Potter - and _Weasley_ \- she was still planning to cheer on her friend at the third task. Draco's stomach turned at the thought.

At first, she'd been difficult to avoid. Draco knew she'd try to seek him out, which she did on Sunday at breakfast, and then on Tuesday after Ancient Runes, but each time Draco fled. He couldn't even pretend it was anything other than just that - fleeing her mere presence. As much as he hated to do it, it had to be done.

After that, she seemed to have gotten the message. Draco doubted that Hermione would give up on anything, ever, but with the distraction of the task, her efforts to see him ended.

And now, Draco sat in his common room, staring blankly at the fireplace, ignoring the commotion of students getting ready to go watch the task. Saturday already. Where had the week gone?

"Nervous?" Blaise asked, sliding into the seat next to him. Anyone else would see Blaise, with his hands behind his head and legs stretched out before him, and think he must be utterly at ease. Draco knew better.

"A bit. You?"

"A bit."

They didn't look at each other. After several long discussions over the last few days, the boys decided jointly not to tell Pansy about their fears regarding the task. That hadn't stopped them from pestering her about going; when she'd insisted that she "simply _must_ go" or else miss out on the excitement, Draco and Blaise resorted to drastic measures.

"Pansy?" Draco asked.

"Taken care of," Blaise answered. "I saw her running to her dorm, heaving already. Think she'll forgive us?"

Draco snorted. "As far as I'm concerned, Pansy Parkinson will never know a _thing._ "

Blaise nodded in agreeance. He'd slipped a puking pestule into her morning coffee, and the effects would last through the next few hours. She would be safe. Safe from what, though, they still had no idea.

Something still churned Draco's worries, however. He knew that somewhere out there, a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor was probably getting ready to leave. He itched to do something about it, and mentally cursed himself for not slipping her a puking pestule, too.

"Are you hungry?" he asked suddenly.

"Hm?" Blaise looked confused. "We just had breakfast."

"I'm hungry," Draco declared, ignoring Blaise's answer. "I'm off to the kitchens. See you."

Blaise didn't have time to respond before Draco jumped from the couch and took off, through the throng of Slytherins, and out of the common room.

Speeding up to a quick trot, Draco glanced at his watch. He didn't have much time. And for that matter, he had no idea what he was doing. He took the stairs two at a time, ran down another corridor, and into the entrance hall. Just like last time, prefects had amassed all the students of their houses and kept them waiting here - but not the Slytherins. Or the Gryffindors, for that matter. Not yet.

Draco headed for the main stairwell, and heard what he needed before it even came into sight: boisterous voices chanting _Potter_. He swore he could make out the Weasley twins specifically, somewhere. Before he reached the stairwell he slowed and tried to keep out of sight.

Peering around the corner, Draco looked up among the moving staircases. A stream of students clad in red and gold occupied multiple landings. He skimmed over the groups, hoping to find her, while telling himself repeatedly that he was mental.

There she was. Just beside Weasley, of course, and his brothers, Hermione waited patiently at a landing while their stairs arrived.

Draco pressed himself against the wall. Now what?

 _She can't go_ , he thought, a startling amount of desperation attached to those three words. He closed his eyes tightly.

Taking a deep breath, Draco leaned around the corner, pointed his wand at Hermione Granger, and whispered " _Confundus_."

A kind of daze seemed to overtake the witch's face, and her feet skidded on the steps; Draco had already turned away and started running when he heard her shriek, along with several other heightened voices.

He sped back through the entrance hall, having to stop and wait for a moment while Madam Pomfrey ordered everyone about (at first he thought she'd somehow arrived with Hermione in mind, but as it turned out, Luna Lovegood had gotten distracted by some imaginary thing or another and walked into a suit of armor) and when he finally broke free, Draco had to collapse against a wall in a side corridor to catch his breath.

"Draco?"

He nearly leapt out of his skin, but calmed immediately. It was just Blaise.

" _Bad - fish_ -" he panted, remembering that he should have been near the kitchens.

Blaise looked skeptical, and with good reason, but by some miracle he didn't question it. Instead he helped Draco up and walked with him back to the common room, thanking Merlin that Draco hadn't asked why he was wandering about, too.

...

Draco's confundus charm did the trick, he later learned, but by that time he had much more to worry about.

He and Blaise spent the afternoon twiddling their thumbs and fumbling through a game of wizard's chess, then the common room door burst open. A flood of students entered in, though no one seemed to want to talk. They all looked ashen.

Cedric Diggory was dead.

Blaise and Draco shared a look of shock at this news, and listened with rapt attention as Gregory relayed the end of the task. Potter had appeared suddenly, scraped up badly, with the Tri-Wizard Cup in one hand, and a very dead Cedric in another. Gregory sank onto the couch as he mentioned that Cedric's parents had seen the whole thing.

Though they weren't supposed to leave the common room, Draco snuck out later that evening. They'd eaten dinner in their dorms, not that he was hungry. He just had to see.

Creeping through the corridors, Draco made his way to the hospital wing. The doors stood only slightly ajar, and he could hear a handful of adults speaking on the other side. He recognized Snape and Dumbledore.

Through the crack in the doors, Draco searched for a sign of her. There, sitting upright in a cot, with her ankle wrapped thickly in white gauze, sat Hermione. Her gaze rested on the bed beside her, where Potter sat, and Draco realized with a start that he wore the same clothing he'd probably been in during the task. The adults surrounded him, still arguing furiously.

Draco leaned heavily against the wall, his heart beating quickly. That last-minute risk he'd taken for Hermione... He'd focused on the wrong person. The wrong _people_. Once again, he'd missed his opportunity to help more than himself.

Not looking back, Draco walked to his common room, feeling utterly alone.

...

They had another week of class after that, but no one cared very much about their finals. Even the professors brushed them off carelessly, Draco noticed. No one knew how to go back to normal.

Hermione's leg, he saw, healed up nicely by the next day. When she walked into the Great Hall for dinner with only a slight limp, Draco watched with a pang of guilt. He'd done that. And to no end, it turned out.

She looked his way, and surprise crossed her face, probably at having caught his gaze at all. Draco looked down quickly.

"Who do you think got the House Cup?" Vince asked, drawing Draco's attention back to his friends. He, Blaise, Pansy, Gregory, and Vince sat in a group at the table, picking at their plates of dinner. No one had much of an appetite.

"Will there even _be_ a House Cup this year?" Pansy asked quietly. "There shouldn't be, not with Cedric... Not with him gone."

They all nodded slowly.

"Maybe he'll give it to Hufflepuff," Gregory said.

"I hope not," Blaise replied. "Who wants to be rewarded for having one of their own offed? They need condolences, not congratulations."

Draco pushed some broccoli around on his plate. "Did any of you know him?"

They all went quiet, looking to each other. No one spoke, which gave Draco his answer. He sighed, pushing away his dinner.

"Enough of this," he said, "I'm off to get packing -"

"Good evening, dear students," interrupted a booming voice. Dumbledore. "And welcome to our farewell feast, on this, our last evening at Hogwarts." The usual merriment was lacking from his words and expression. Even Draco, who despised Dumbledore the rest of the time, didn't like it.

"Today marks the end of another year, but also, the end of our last year spent with one extraordinary individual: Mr. Cedric Diggory. Cedric was a young man worthy of such praise, and he exemplified many of the defining traits of his house: he was kind, loyal, and fair. And to say that Cedric Diggory died in an accident, or that his death was somehow his own fault, is an insult to his memory. It is also untrue."

Draco leaned forward in his seat. What was Dumbledore talking about? He wasn't _really_ going to say what had happened, was he?

"The Ministry of Magic does not want me to tell you this," Dumbledore continued. "And your parents may be horrified to hear that I've told you anyway. But lies will not bring Cedric Diggory back, and they also will not prepare us for what's to come. Only the truth can do that.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Gasps could be heard across the hall. As for Draco, he felt his face drain of color, and glanced at Blaise and Pansy; they looked as pale as he felt.

"We know this to be true because someone witnessed his murder, and that person was also able to bring him back to us. Harry Potter witnessed the return of Lord Voldemort, and he witnessed the killing curse which took Cedric's life. I do not tell you this to frighten you. Voldemort is capable of separating us with fear, and that is exactly what he aims to do.

"This year, we participated in the legendary tournament whose goal wasn't just eternal glory for the victor, but also, and more importantly, to foster trust and friendship with our allies from afar. Divided with fear, we will be weak, but we will always be as strong as we are united."

Dumbledore paused, looking out over the students.

"Thank you, our dear friends, for being with us this year. Please know that you will always be welcome at Hogwarts in the future. Hogwarts will _always_ be available to those who need it." He waved his wand now, and all the banners in the hall faded from their bright colors into gray, and then to black.

"Please join me in raising our glasses to the memory of Cedric Diggory."

Everyone in the hall reached for a goblet and held it up in the air, and were silent. Draco didn't move. He was somehow frozen in place, chilled by knowing his prediction had come true.

 _Voldemort is back._

He found himself looking at the Gryffindor table, and his heart wrenched. Hermione's glass was raised, just like everyone else's, and she stared unseeing into the air. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

He didn't hear the conclusion to Dumbledore's speech, and didn't even realize it was over until people began standing and hugging one another. Even his fellow Slytherins did as much, some of them turning to the other houses and embracing the others as well. What a strange sight. As for Draco, he took the first opportunity to escape from the hall, and he didn't look back.

Somewhere among the crowd of faces, Hermione saw Draco slip away. He looked sickly, which struck Hermione as odd - he hadn't known Cedric personally, had he?

Her blood ran cold. He wasn't upset about Cedric, was he?

She pointed her foot and stretched out her ankle, which was still a bit sore from her fall last weekend. At the time it hadn't made any sense, just like so many other things, but now Draco's cryptic warning filled her head.

 _Don't go to the third task. Please. For me._

And she hadn't gone after all, had she?

She stared after his retreating form, his platinum hair always so easy to spot amidst other people. Something urged her to follow him, and catch him this time - to demand the answers she'd needed two weeks ago - but she pushed it away. Maybe it was for the best that she forgot it happened. Apparently, he wanted to.

So Hermione forgot about Draco (not that it was easy) and about that heated kiss. She forgot about how demandingly he'd touched her, and the fire of sensation it had awakened within her. She forgot, almost, and turned her attention back to Harry and Ron. They would never need to know.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank god that chapter's done. Ugh. The beginning was really fun to write, but after that, I honestly hated what I came up with. I'm sorry if you found it tedious - that's understandable, truly. It'll go up from here.

So really... What did you think? I hope you enjoyed the first section. There will be more of that in the future, trust me! Haha. I'm going to try to keep this fic a solid T rating, however, I have written some smut in the past that was well-received... I'm toying with the idea of writing some one-shots to accompany this fic and, erm, _expand_ on some of the more fun scenes. Would you be interested? Let me know!

Also, what was Blaise up to before the third task? Hmm...

Thanks for reading!

PennyDreddful


	10. Prefects

_A/N: Anyone who enjoys typing on a tablet, I seriously recommend trying the Hanx Writer. Tom Hanks is a brilliant man who gave us a typewriter for our iPads, and it's lovely. Anyway._

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Prefects**

 _Draco strode through the dark corridor in silence, his wand raised to provide just enough light to see by. Everyone else had long since gone to bed, and he used this knowledge to his advantage, certain that he wouldn't be disturbed. He didn't bother with sneaking around corners; no, he had somewhere to be, and he wouldn't keep her waiting._

 _He went to the library and let himself inside, shutting the door behind him. He locked it. When he turned to survey the cavernous room and its many rows of shelves, he looked for anything out of place. Finding nothing, he lowered his wand and stalked curiously forward._

 _"Hiding now, are we?" he said softly, though his voice carried._

 _"Well it wouldn't be very fun if I made this easy for you," she answered from somewhere toward the back of the room._

 _Draco smirked. He headed that way._

 _When he neared, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his vision - the hem of a skirt, the swish of her hair as she moved. He spun and stepped toward her, keeping on high alert._

 _Her hands, out of nowhere, covered his eyes. She pressed up against his back and her breath tickled his ear._

 _"Guess who?" she whispered._

Draco sat up in bed, covered in sweat and shaking.

Not _again_.

He threw off his blankets and set his feet on the cold floor, rubbing his face furiously. He needed to get this under control. Soon it would be too late.

Sighing anxiously, Draco eyed the new robes and uniform that hung on his closet. A gold badge was pinned to the breast of his robes, bearing a large P right in the middle of it. His mother had been simply ecstatic - and, therefore, simply unbearable - since it had arrived.

Classes would be starting soon, and he still couldn't stop the dreams. They came and went in phases, so several times he went a week without one and thought he'd finally overcome it, only to be disappointed soon after. He couldn't be found moaning every night about Hermione Granger. It would ruin him. He'd already narrowly avoided discovery over the holiday, and every time he thought of it his heart dropped. It was back in July when Aunt Bella had first offered to teach him Occlumency. There couldn't be anything worse in the world than Bellatrix Lestrange witnessing first-hand the wet dreams you were frequently having about a muggle-born.

Fortunately, his mother had given the choice up to Draco. He'd declined adamantly, and she pushed it no further. He knew the offer stood, though. His aunt had mentioned it multiple times in her letters throughout the summer, which he always ignored, choosing instead to respond with the shortest, least-personal anecdotes he could come up with.

He fell back onto his mattress with a groan. Five-thirty a.m. and he couldn't go back to sleep. It was too risky.

Images from his dream, and from the last few he could remember, rolled around in his head. His brain had certainly become inventive in the last few months, creating every possible (and impossible) scenario in which he and Hermione might end up being entirely indecent together. He'd even had dreams of them meeting up in the prefect's bathroom, which he'd never seen before. He just knew it involved a rather large bathtub. Large enough to fit two people.

He wondered if she ever thought about him. The answer seemed plain, since the perfect Hermione Granger would never sully her mind with such fantasies. Probably not. Or maybe she did, and she laid awake at night letting her imagination run wild. Draco enjoyed that idea, perhaps a bit too much.

Letting out a deep breath, Draco shut his eyes. He really, really wanted to meet with her again, and more than that, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted her to look at him like she had that evening, like she really _saw_ him. No one had ever done that before, they only wanted to go skin-deep.

But it wouldn't be possible. Especially not now, not with...

 _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ , he interrupted himself.

No, especially not now.

The reappearance of Voldemort had marked a significant change in how Draco's family operated, and he hated it. Aunt Bella was visiting often and also writing, less afraid of being caught by the Ministry (which seemed obsessively convinced that Voldemort's rebirth was a lie) so he couldn't escape her. His father, in addition to working very hard at the Ministry, had begun spending more nights away from the manor. This made his mother anxious.

Narcissa had taken to doting upon Draco at every opportunity, and she'd even stretched out his school shopping to last for multiple trips over several days, as to spend more time with her son. If he hadn't outright refused, she would have liked to take dancing lessons with him again.

He didn't mind the extra attention, it was the reason behind it which worried him. Ever since that day, the day Cedric Diggory died, it was like Draco's family stopped belonging to each other. Now they just belonged to _him_.

Draco hated him with a passion he'd never thought possible.

"Pinny?" Draco called.

With a small pop, their little house-elf appeared in the middle of Draco's room.

She bowed immediately.

"Yes master?" she said, her voice high-pitched and a little nasally. "What can Pinny be doing for you?"

"Breakfast," he grumbled, short on the patience that was required for speaking with house-elves. He wasn't very fond of the creatures.

Pinny understood completely, however, and with another small pop she disappeared from sight.

Rubbing his face, Draco groaned loudly. It was September first. Time to go back to Hogwarts.

...

Draco yanked his trunk down the aisle of the train car, looking for an empty compartment to claim. He'd said goodbye to his mother down on the platform, where she'd insisted on kissing his forehead like a little boy. In _public_. That alone was enough to make him flee the scene.

His pocket jingled as he walked, now filled with sickles, and for that he allowed his mother a small reprieve. As much as Draco wanted to be treated like an adult, he could still enjoy the perks of childhood, he supposed.

Lucius hadn't come with them to Platform 9 3/4. Draco wasn't personally put-out, but it did worry him. This last week his father had seemed particularly exhausted, and his pale complexion even bordered on sickly. He'd steal away during the evenings to who-knows-where, return haggard and resolute, and Draco knew exactly who to blame for those disappearances.

 _Voldemort. I swear to Merlin, I'll kill that man one day._

He found an empty compartment and let himself in before hoisting his bag up onto the luggage rack.

"Thought I'd find you off on your lonesome," said Pansy, stepping up behind him. Draco didn't wait for her to ask, but simply grasped her dragon-hide trunk and hauled it up beside his own. "Blaise should be late, I saw him on the platform. He picked a hell of a time to get in a row with his father."

Draco slumped into his seat. "Blaise and Mr. Zabini?"

Pansy blinked at him.

"Well, _obviously_ Mr. Zabini," Draco continued, rolling his eyes. "I just mean, I can't imagine it. They're usually so... _Calm_. All of them."

"It was certainly a sight to behold," Pansy said in agreeance. "He hasn't said anything to you about it?"

"No." Draco looked out the window. He hadn't owled his friend for nearly a month now. There hadn't been much to say. "They've been on the outs for a while, then?"

Pansy nodded, eyeing Draco warily. "All summer. When I was over last Sunday, I swear his mother didn't even say hello." With a particularly un-ladylike snort, Pansy sat and crossed her legs. "Like she needed another reason to hate me. Blaise said she thinks it's my fault he and his father have been fighting. He won't even tell me what it's all about, though. It's rubbish."

Quirking an eyebrow at her, Draco smirked. "So Lady Zabini still suspects you're after her fortune, then?"

Pansy merely scowled in response, which earned her a large grin from Draco.

Mrs. Zabini had made it clear nearly a year ago that her son was to never, under any circumstances, court Pansy Parkinson. She'd said as much during luncheon last summer while hosting not only Pansy and Draco, but both of their mothers as well. Apparently Blaise's mum had assumed that Draco and Pansy were dating (why she couldn't believe they were all just friends, Draco had no idea) and when Draco nearly spit out his champagne at the thought, she'd assumed the worst. He hadn't realized just how pale a woman of her dark coloring could get.

Of course, a great argument followed; the Parkinson's weren't quite as wealthy as either the Zabini's or Malfoy's, and Pansy's mother had some choice words to share at the notion her daughter was "some scheming gold-digger." The lunch didn't last long.

By now it had become somewhat of an inside-joke between the three of them, and fortunately Blaise and Pansy could easily keep their parents from crossing paths after that. Draco found himself especially grateful for this. Not that he would ever admit it, but he suspected Mrs. Zabini would be more accepting of Pansy if the young witch were prettier. He knew it would break Pansy's heart to learn as much, and so Draco planned to never let that happen.

"So you're our other Prefect, then?" Pansy asked, her arms still crossed unhappily.

"As it turns out, yes."

She nodded. "I knew it would be one of you, I just didn't know which. And what with Blaise being so touchy these days, it seemed best not to ask."

"Has it really been that bad?" Draco asked.

"By the Zabini's standards? Yes. Beyond bad."

A mixture of worry and guilt sprang up in Draco's chest. He'd gotten so wrapped up in his own problems that he'd written off Blaise completely, and wasn't sure how his friend would react. More than that, though, was concern over what exactly had the Zabini's so unhappy.

Blaise did arrive late, just as Pansy predicted, sliding open their compartment door a minute after the train began moving. He didn't look at them at first, but remained perfectly cool and passive. Draco could see his friend's jaw clenching and unclenching, though, which gave him away.

Fortunately for Blaise, who didn't seem too keen on talking just yet, they were soon interrupted by a pretty seventh-year. The blue badge on her robes pronounced her as their Head Girl.

"Oh good, you're both here," she said to Draco and Pansy. "We're about to get started up front."

"Right behind you," Draco replied lazily. He didn't expect their first Prefect's meeting to be any fun.

He followed Pansy and the Head Girl (a Ravenclaw named Eloise) down the aisle of the train, which was still bustling with commotion as students gathered and spoke excitedly about their holidays. Most were sensible enough to get out of the way, Draco noted. Maybe he'd enjoy life as a Prefect after all, if it meant everyone else would leave him alone.

When they entered the Prefect's cabin, however, he had to stifle a groan.

"Oh no, not _you_ ," said Ron Weasley rather loudly, with a look of utter disgust aimed Draco's way.

Draco sneered. "Who the hell made _you_ a Prefect?"

"That's enough, you two," declared a seventh-year boy. Judging by his yellow badge and air of authority, Draco guessed him to be the other Head. He looked displeased. "You won't always be patrolling with your other house member, and we need to trust that you won't hex each other the second we look away."

"If you can't handle it, there's the door," added Eloise. She puffed out her chest a bit.

With a sigh, Draco shared a look of annoyance with Pansy before sitting. They were the last pair to enter the spacious compartment, and the Heads seemed impatient to get started. While they prattled on about introductions and patrol schedules, Draco glanced around.

He of course recognized all of the chosen Prefects, and thankfully they were mostly the top of their class. The only real idiot was Weasley, who sat across from Draco, his face set in an impressive glower. Next to him, looking back and forth at the two boys and chewing her lip nervously, sat Hermione Granger.

 _Shite_.

He'd known she would be a Prefect - hell, she'd be Head Girl their seventh year, there was no denying it - but in his distraction, Draco hadn't mentally prepared himself to see her so soon. She looked lovely as ever, her thick hair just a touch frizzy and a pretty blush on her cheeks. Her legs were crossed, much like Pansy's, but with Pansy it was a hell of a lot easier not to stare.

Keeping his face purposely blank, Draco held eye contact for only a moment before looking away. He ignored her for the rest of the meeting, not that he paid much attention to their Heads, either.

...

When Draco and Pansy got back to their compartment, Blaise had returned to his normal laid-back self. If he held a grudge over Draco's radio silence during the holiday, he didn't let it show, and soon they had launched into a debate about a few of their preferred professional quidditch teams. Pansy ignored this for the most part, flipping through the latest edition of Witch Weekly. At one point Luna Lovegood popped by to offer a copy of The Quibbler, at which Pansy laughed aloud while Blaise, wisely, remained silent.

The welcoming feast went by quickly, and wasn't much different from years past, with two major exceptions: firstly, no flaming goblet stood front and center this time, and secondly, they were graced with the presence of Dolores Umbridge. Draco thought he might like her after the first time she interrupted Dumbledore's inane ramblings.

They received their timetables the next day, along with their patrol schedules for Prefect duty. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy compared notes at once.

"Nothing to start your day like double Transfiguration with Hufflepuff," Blaise muttered.

"Oh _no_ ," moaned Pansy, "Double Potions after that. Gryffindor."

"We have Defense with that lot this afternoon, too," Blaise said.

Draco looked over his Prefect schedule, hoping to distract himself from the idea of spending so many hours with Gryffindor in one day.

"Well, at least we don't patrol until Thursday," he said.

Pansy looked confused. "What? No, on mine it says tonight."

They stared at each other for a moment, then groaned in unison.

"The _least_ they could do is tell us who we're with," Pansy said, crossing her arms haughtily. "I knew it from the moment I saw those two. They were just chomping at the bit to push some house unity on us. What a load of bullocks."

Draco was already back to staring at his schedule. When he'd seen his times written as Thursday and Saturday evenings, he'd assumed he'd be patrolling with Pansy. And now, with his luck...

 _Not Granger_ , he pleaded inwardly. _Anyone but Granger_.

Fortunately, Snape wasn't as keen on house unity as their new Head Boy and Girl, and he didn't bat an eye when his classroom divided evenly into Slytherins and Gryffindors. Blaise and Pansy took a table in front, and Draco settled in next to Vince just behind them. While Vince didn't have a lot going on upstairs, per se, he did have a certain proclivity toward brewing potions, so Draco couldn't complain.

Also fortunately, with his place so near to the front of the room, Draco wouldn't need to worry about staring off at Hermione Granger all class. It was bad enough to have Blaise on his case, he didn't need Snape noticing too. This would make it much easier to ignore the brunette and focus on his studies.

Actually, their first day went quite smoothly, up until Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Umbridge stood beside her desk, resembling a toad in a pink dress more than anything, and she tapped her wand against the palm of her hand while smiling grimly their way. Draco shared a wary look with Pansy before snagging a table at the back of the room, not sure they wanted to sit very close to _this_ professor at all. She introduced herself with a high-pitched cough once the bell had rung.

Potter and Weasley sat closer to the front, and Draco could see them browsing through their books with clear distaste. As much as he hated to agree, Draco found himself unsure that this "Ministry-approved curriculum" would be of much benefit to anyone.

"Sorry, but when are we going to, I don't know, learn to defend ourselves?" asked Potter, breaking the relative silence in the room. Everyone shifted a bit, visibly uncomfortable.

"And why should you need to defend yourself?" asked Umbridge, her smile tight.

"Well, no offense Professor," said Weasley, "But this _is_ Defense Against the Dark Arts."

This wasn't the right thing to say to Delores Umbridge, as it turned out. Draco watched avidly as the small witch grit her teeth but still smiled at her students, seemingly afraid that all hell would break loose if she let them get any wild ideas.

"Now _children_ , let me make myself perfectly clear," she said. "We at the Ministry have carefully constructed a lesson plan that is _more_ than sufficient enough for you to pass your O.W.L.s. By the end of this year, you will all be well-equipped with an understanding of the nature of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I sincerely hope that you haven't let any unsavory rumors cloud your judgement."

Potter bristled. "The _nature_ of defense? That's rubbish. We need to be learning how to protect ourselves, not how to pass a stupid test."

"And just who, Mr. Potter, might we need to defend ourselves from?" Umbridge asked, her eyes alight and daring. The whole class held their breath; they'd read the articles proclaiming Harry Potter insane, and many more about his declarations that Voldemort was alive again. Most people thought it was a great lie. Draco knew the unfortunate truth, not that he'd say anything about it.

"Oh, I don't know, Lord Voldemort?" Harry snapped.

Draco sucked in his breath, much like everyone else in the room. Umbridge looked like she'd just about explode, but instead hissed something about detention, and promptly turned her attention to chapter one of their books.

While she rambled on about Ministry regulations and the profound intellect of the Minister himself, Draco couldn't keep up. His thoughts were back on Potter's exclamation, and on the boldness of it - really, was he not afraid to embarrass himself? To make himself appear any crazier than the Daily Prophet accused him of being?

Pansy laid a hand on Draco's elbow, but she didn't look at him. When he glanced over at her, he could see worry in her eyes.

They all had reason to worry, these days.

...

Draco paced in the entrance hall, the tip of his wand lit. He'd survived the last few days and made it to his first patrol as Prefect, and the mounting dread had nearly consumed him.

 _He leaned back against the cool stone wall, crossing his arms impatiently._

 _"You're late," he said, at the sound of soft approaching footsteps._

 _There she was - wand raised, with its light illuminating her pretty face. Hermione Granger. She smirked knowingly, and gave Draco a hungry, sultry look. Her robes parted down the front, and he could see the hem of her skirt, pulled up higher than usual, exposing her milky thighs._

 _"I'm sorry," she said, her voice low. "Whatever will you do with me?"_

"Malfoy? _Malfoy!_ "

Draco snapped out of his daydream, his face heating up. He hoped the dim lighting would hide his embarrassment.

No, not Hermione Granger, and certainly not the scantily-clad succubus version of her either. Ron Weasley in all his red-haired, gangly-limbed glory stood glaring at Draco, clearly not happy with this arrangement.

"You look like you've seen the Bloody Baron," Weasley said, narrowing his eyes.

"I did," Draco replied smoothly. "He's in the common room. Fancy a chat with him?"

Weasley didn't respond to that, but just scowled more darkly than before. Apparently he had no intention of running into the Bloody Baron at this time of night.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Let's just get this over with."

They started off toward the dungeons, Ron taking Draco's lead, when a voice caught them.

"Wait," said Hermione, striding out from the main stairwell. Draco didn't turn to look at her; he knew that voice all too well.

"'Mione?" asked Weasley. Draco's stomach turned at the sound of such a familiar nickname falling out of Weasley's dumb mouth.

She strode up to the pair, standing squarely in front of them. Draco didn't turn her way, and didn't allow any hint of emotion to cross his face.

 _Keep it together._

"Er, Draco?" Hermione said. When he didn't respond, she kept on. "I was hoping you'd trade me shifts. Thursday for Tuesday. You'll be with Pansy, then."

He clenched his jaw, afraid to speak. For some reason he couldn't come up with anything that wasn't total gibberish.

Hermione and Ron glanced nervously at one another.

"Right then," Weasley announced. "I'll take that as a yes. Later, Malfoy."

The redhead set off confidently in the opposite direction, clearly hoping to put as much distance between himself and Draco as possible. Not that Draco was looking, or that he even planned to respond, but he could feel that Hermione stayed behind, just for a moment.

Hermione looked the tall blond up and down, her eyebrows drawn together. He seemed older after the summer, a bit more worn down. She chewed on her lip. Why wasn't he acknowledging her? How could he pretend that last June - that _kiss_ \- hadn't happened?

She wanted to ask, but it wasn't the right time. Instead she followed Ron out of the hall, leaving Draco standing alone in the shadows.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sorry to speed through the beginning of the year like that, I just honestly didn't think much of it was interesting enough (on Draco's end) to include. I want to keep you guys on your toes!

Pansy and Blaise are going to play a much bigger role this year, for one. I'm enjoying the parallels you can draw between our two trios, not that Harry and Ron are featured much in this fic. Obviously they have caught Draco's attention here and there, though.

So. Draco's freezing Hermione out, which has her more than flustered and confused. And what the hell is going on with the Zabini's?

Until next time. ;)

PennyDreddful


	11. Help When You Need It

**Chapter Ten: Help When You Need It**

Draco and Blaise were sitting in the common room, working steadily on an essay for Professor Sprout, when Pansy stepped between them and plopped down on the couch. She didn't seem to care about the fact that she crumpled Blaise's paper or made Draco slash about half of his with ink; no, she merely sighed happily and stared at the fire.

Blaise scowled at her, trying in vain to flatten out his parchment. If Draco weren't busy trying to erase the ink off of his, he would have wondered what charm Hermione had used to fix his homework last year. Perhaps the thought occurred to him anyway.

"What's gotten you all... All..." Blaise couldn't find the right word, and finally sighed in exasperation. "All _dreamy?_ And oblivious?"

Pansy turned to him, her eyes soft and shining.

"I think Cormac's going to ask me to Hogsmeade," she said, and her face quickly flushed a light pink.

Draco wouldn't lie, the look suited her. When her features softened like this, Pansy didn't look quite as severe as usual, and she might even pass as pretty. Unfortunately, it was all wasted on Cormac McLaggen, a sixth-year Gryffindor with a thick skull.

"Congratulations," Draco muttered.

"I'm telling you, Pansy, he's not worth it," Blaise said on her other side. "The prat has all the chivalry of a hippogriff. I've seen him with other girls, it's no good."

Pansy stuck her tongue out at him briefly, then blanched when she realized what she'd done. She looked around, but no one else had seen it.

"For your _information_ ," she hissed, "He's been a right gentleman. He even helped me finish that essay you two have only just started."

Draco scoffed. "Sitting next to you and teasing you with your own quill hardly counts as helping."

In response, Pansy merely stuck her nose in the air, flipping her long hair in Draco's direction.

She'd been like this for a few weeks now. With November drawing near and Hogsmeade weekends well underway, the Prefects all kept very busy, so Draco had no idea where Pansy found the time to fraternize with that oaf of a wizard. Then again, she wasn't as concerned as he was about classes and O.W.L.s.

Blaise, however, seemed to be in a similar mindset this year. Draco had never gotten around to asking his friend about his family troubles - they were best mates, but they didn't tend to talk about anything very deep - and besides, Blaise was a private person. Possibly the most private person Draco had ever met. Girls still readily vied for his attention, but Blaise ignored them all with the steadfastness of a celibate monk.

Draco didn't question Blaise's dating life, though, having his hands quite full enough with his own. He'd hoped another Daphne Greengrass would come along so he could at least _pretend_ to move on, but at the same time, the idea turned his stomach. It would do no good to get physical with one person if he'd only be thinking about someone else the entire time.

The dreams were less steady now, but Draco still cast a silencing charm on the drawn curtains of his four-poster each night, just in case.

"Draco?"

He snapped to attention. Pansy was waving her hand in front of his face.

"Mm?" he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "I swear, I don't know where your head is anymore. I said, aren't you going to ask someone? To Hogsmeade?"

"I wasn't planning on going," he said honestly.

"You are both positively _mental_ ," Pansy snapped. "How long do you think you'll last like this, with girls throwing themselves at you left and right? It won't be forever, I can promise you _that_."

She stood promptly and stomped off, forgetting to flip her hair in a show of arrogance. A few seventh-year girls in the corner watched her go with raised eyebrows before appraising Draco and Blaise with distaste.

Draco slouched a little lower into the couch.

"What was _that_ about?" asked Blaise, staring after Pansy. He looked genuinely concerned.

Draco shrugged at first, but he thought he knew the answer. It was the same reason why she was so ecstatic to have McLaggen's attention; Pansy didn't find herself fancied by many wizards at Hogwarts. Draco wouldn't be surprised if she was a bit jealous.

"What did she mean, girls are throwing themselves at us?" Draco asked. "I mean, it's one thing for you, but I haven't spoken to anyone worthwhile all year."

"It's one thing for me?" Blaise repeated skeptically. Then Draco realized. Blaise probably had no idea that girls were after him constantly - they didn't exactly come out and say anything about it, did they?

The conversation dropped after that, both boys coming to the same conclusion. Draco, of course, didn't feel much more than simple intrigue at the idea of seeing another girl, his mind quite occupied with one in particular. What he didn't see, however, was that Blaise was in very much the same situation.

...

Hogsmeade weekend came and went, and just like Pansy guessed, McLaggen did ask her out. Draco didn't see much of her once that was official, and suspected that the pair spent their time snogging in every available broom cupboard they could find. He still wasn't a fan of the guy, but if he made Pansy happy, well... He might be able to overlook McLaggen's clear lack of intellect. And manners.

Draco used quidditch practice as an excuse to avoid Hogsmeade. He'd easily made the team again this year, and it wasn't entirely a lie that he wanted to hone his skills. Truthfully, though, he just didn't want to see Hermione parading about Hogsmeade arm-in-arm with Potter and Weasley. Honestly, what did she see in those two, anyway? Potter was somewhat understandable, being the Boy Who Lived and all, but truly - Ron Weasley? He was worse than McLaggen.

Aside from matters relating to Hermione, Draco was curious about some new developments at Hogwarts. Umbridge had, by now, posted multiple "Educational Decrees" throughout the school. Draco couldn't argue that Dumbledore needed a good inspection, but he wondered if Umbridge wasn't taking this too far. The other week, she'd even banned student gatherings. What was that all about, anyway?

Draco mentioned this to Blaise one afternoon, careful not to be overheard. They had just finished Divination and were walking back to the common room.

"I don't know..." Blaise considered this quietly. "I would agree, it's just... There's been talk of a new group out there. I wasn't sure if the rumors were true or not, but Umbridge must think they are."

"A new group?" Draco asked.

Blaise grew uncomfortable, shifting his bag from one shoulder to the other. "An army, actually. That's what they're saying."

Draco nearly stopped in his tracks.

"I'm sorry," he started.

"You heard right," Blaise said. He ran a hand through his perfectly-mussed black hair. "Word is that Potter's started it. Recruited from everyone but Slytherin to practice defense. I don't know if it's true or not, but if it is - say what you want about the kid, but he's sure got his priorities in order."

Draco had to, begrudgingly at least, agree. Umbridge's version of Defense was absolutely useless, and Draco personally wouldn't mind learning a thing or two outside of the classroom. It just didn't look like that was about to happen.

The next day during potions, Snape asked a handful of the Slytherins to stay after the bell. Well, he didn't ask, but drawled the order in that rather greasy way of his.

"Zabini, Malfoy, Parkinson, and Crabbe," he said, raising his voice over the sound of students getting ready to leave class. "A word?"

The four looked at each other, and gathered a few glances from around the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see Hermione slowing while she packed her things. Weasley's red head came into view, however, and after that they both promptly left.

 _Sodding Weasley,_ Draco thought. He couldn't help but frown. Really, Hermione couldn't actually _like_ the fellow, could she? Surely it was _his_ idea to hang around _her._ Surely...

"Draco?" Vince asked, nudging him with his elbow. Draco started. He really needed to work on his focus.

Once the room had cleared out, Snape directed his gaze to the four in front of him.

"Professor Umbridge has requested that I assemble some students to aid in an... _Extracurricular_ activity," Snape said, dragging out each syllable. "You'll meet in her office tonight at six o'clock for further instruction."

"What kind of extracurricular?" Draco asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea," Snape answered, leveling Draco with a stare. "But I trust you will all participate regardless. That is all."

He swept his black robes aside as he turned, then paused. He turned his head back so they could see the perfect silhouette of his very hooked nose.

"And Draco," he continued, "I'll see you in my office directly afterward. You have some family business to attend to."

Draco watched his professor stalk away with a pang of nervousness. Family business? His mother hadn't written about anything special recently. And aside from that, why was Snape wrapped up in the Malfoy's affairs?

Judging by the curious looks he got from the others, his friends were asking themselves the same questions.

...

"Yes, I think you'll do quite well," announced Umbridge proudly. She was currently pinning a new silver badge on Draco's robes before moving on to Pansy.

All in all, Umbridge had created her "Inquisitorial Squad" to help quash the small uprising of students, which she'd explained before passing out badges. The rumors had been correct. Just as Blaise had said, Potter had started up what he called "Dumbledore's Army," along with Hermione and Ron Weasley. Umbridge was convinced that Dumbledore himself had put them up to it, but Draco had his reservations about that.

"Now, I want your _top_ priority to be finding these miscreants," Umbridge said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "And I want you to do whatever is necessary. Anyone wearing this badge -" she indicated the shiny "I" on Draco's chest - "Can dock points, or add points, to any house. That should do _just_ the trick."

She'd made Draco the leader of the Squad, probably at Snape's recommendation. Draco wasn't entirely sure why, but he wasn't complaining, either. He'd become very curious about this Dumbledore's Army thing... Especially knowing who was at risk, should they be found out.

 _I suppose I'll just need to find them out first_ , he thought.

"And if you need anything - and I mean _anything_ ," Umbridge went on, "Don't you be afraid to ask." She finished with a smile and sickeningly high-pitched giggle.

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said, ready to move on with his evening. He looked down the line of Squad members, which included not only Blaise, Pansy, and Vince, but also Gregory, Millicent Bullstrode, and a couple gents called Montague and Warrington who Draco knew from quidditch. It wasn't a bad set of students, that was for sure. He noticed that they were all Slytherin and wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Professor Umbridge beamed at him and gave a happy nod. Filch, who was also present for the meeting, opened the door to her office, and they all spilled out.

"Well _that_ was interesting," Blaise said, as soon as they were safely out in the corridor.

"How should we go about it, then?" asked Warrington, stepping up behind Draco. He was a skinny boy with buck teeth and curly hair, but made one hell of a chaser.

Draco thought for a moment. "I suppose we patrol. They aren't nearly as careful as they think, and we'll hear when they're supposed to have meetings. They have to get word around to each other _somehow_. So when we hear something, we'll spread out, and catch them."

"You think it'll be that easy?" piped in Pansy. "If it were, Umbridge would have had them by now."

It wasn't a bad point, but didn't give Draco much confidence, either.

"We should talk to Clearwater and Humphries," Draco said, naming their Head Boy and Girl. "They'll need to know we have authority. They won't like that."

"Ugh, _I'm_ not doing it," Pansy said.

"We'll go together," Draco said. "Besides, they'll need to know we're looking into a few of our Prefects. Maybe they can help."

The group continued planning while they made their way to the dungeons, but once at the door to the common room, Draco departed. Pansy and Blaise were curious, of course, about why Snape had called a meeting with Draco, and they wanted to hear about it when Draco got back in.

Anxiety bubbling up in his stomach, Draco headed for Snape's office.

The Potions Master's office stood adjacent to his classroom, so it wasn't too far away from the common room either. Draco knocked on the door before he could really brace himself properly for what was to come; Snape answered immediately.

"Enter."

 _Always so bloody formal,_ Draco thought with a grimace.

He opened the door with some trepidation and stepped inside.

It wasn't his first trip to Snape's office - those had been a frequent occurrence in his first few years at Hogwarts. It was a dreary room, styled much like the classroom itself, with dark oak bookshelves lining the walls and torches ensconced for some light. Draco wondered if Snape's private quarters were so cave-like, but decided not to ask.

Snape sat behind his desk, poring over a thick book. He didn't look up, so Draco took a seat across from him and waited.

"I see the High Inquisitor is taking recruits," Snape drawled, finally looking up. His eyes landed on the "I" badge on Draco's chest.

"She wants to disband Dumbledore's Army," Draco said simply.

"Yes. It would seem." Snape didn't expose any particular emotion with those words, so Draco couldn't gauge exactly how to react. Snape continued before Draco had to think very much about it. "You're wondering why I called you here."

Draco nodded.

"I've recently spoken with your Aunt Bella," Snape said, at which Draco's jaw dropped.

"You _what?_ " he stammered. How could his professor speak so calmly about having relations with a known fugitive? And not only that - but Snape had used her _familiar_ name.

"Yes, I have a long history with your aunt," Snape said. "We worked very closely together for a number of years. And our work has begun yet again."

He was talking about Voldemort.

His brain racing to process this new information, Draco couldn't open his mouth to speak. He was too shocked.

"Bella explained that she desires to teach you Occlumency, an invaluable skill in times like these. She also explained your refusal to learn." Snape gave Draco a hard stare. "I wonder if there is a reason for your unwillingness."

Draco's blood ran cold.

Surely Snape didn't know - how could he? He must be talking about something else. Maybe he suspected Draco of sympathizing with Dumbledore. That must be it.

Nevertheless, Draco's heartbeat pattered on, pounding in his ears.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Draco asked, sounding much feebler than he'd intended.

"Don't play dumb, Draco," Snape said. "You wouldn't be the first to fall into unacceptable relations in this castle. You're young, yet."

Draco couldn't look his professor in the eye by now. "There's nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your Aunt Bella won't be so forgiving," Snape continued. "She'll view it as weakness. She might even expose you. All over a simple folly, something that could be easily avoided. Easily... _Covered up_."

"... Covered up?" Draco repeated.

Snape folded his hands.

"Bellatrix Lestrange isn't the only one who can teach you to protect your mind."

It took nearly a full minute for Draco to process what Snape was offering to him, and when he finally convinced himself that no, he hadn't just imagined it all, Draco cleared his throat.

"Er... Professor, what is it, exactly, that you're saying?"

Snape unfolded his hands and returned to his book. "If you so desire, you will meet me in my office at eight o'clock on Sunday. I will begin teaching you Occlumency. It won't be enough to master it, but it will be enough to keep things hidden that you wouldn't want your aunt to see." He turned a page slowly, almost lazily. "Think very hard about this, Draco. Sunday. You'd be wise to show up."

And without another word, Draco was dismissed. He stood from his chair, still staring confusedly at his professor, and then made his way out of the room.

What a strange night.

...

It took a few days to completely process everything that had happened, and when he finally did, Draco wasn't sure how he felt about it all. Obviously the added power of being on the Inquisitorial Squad was a plus, seeing as he could now freely roam the castle at any hour, and he'd be the first to know once they caught the Dumbledore's Army members. He'd been quite specific with his Squad members about that, and they hadn't questioned it. Even Blaise, who Draco thought for sure would see right through to Draco's main concern, said nothing.

It took even longer to fully understand Snape's offer. So Draco wouldn't be the first pureblood to fancy a muggle-born, was that it? Maybe Snape had been in the same boat at his age, Draco had no idea. Clearly that hadn't panned out for him.

But would he accept Snape's offer?

 _Only if I value my life_ , he thought. Then, with just a hint of alarm: _or hers._

That thought struck him with great force. _Did_ he value Hermione's life? Why wasn't she just a good snog he'd had one time, and that was that?

 _You know why_.

No, she wouldn't be just a cheap snog. When she looked at him, she looked _through_ him, and she didn't sneer in disgust like she should. And what's more, she should have gone back to ignoring Draco's existence this year, just like he had toward her, only she didn't; instead, she lingered in the background, sometimes opening her mouth to speak before being pulled away by Potter or Weasley.

Draco's chest tightened. He hated those two almost as much as he hated Voldemort himself. Didn't they see what they were dragging her into? It was one thing for them, they were from two very prominent wizarding families, but Hermione... She'd be one of the first targeted. And could they let her lay low? No. They continually dragged her into the limelight.

He thought over this while sitting under the great oak tree beside the lake. It was getting dark outside, but he didn't worry about breaking curfew - didn't need to, not anymore. He just pulled his cloak a bit tighter to ward off October's chill, not ready to leave.

"What are you doing out here?"

 _No, no way - not now._

Hermione strode up to the tree, having come from the main entrance of the castle. She also wore a heavy cloak, her wild hair pulled over one shoulder.

"Go away, Granger," Draco snapped. What kind of luck was this?

"Just because _Umbridge_ lets you wander about however you please doesn't mean I won't ask questions when you do," Hermione replied. "Besides, it's Thursday. You know I patrol tonight."

Draco couldn't help but look up at her, utterly bewildered.

"You patrol _outside?_ " he asked, aghast.

It was hard to tell in the waning light, but Hermione's face might have colored at that.

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "Besides, it's not a bad way to start the evening."

Draco snorted. "You're crazy."

Hermione looked away, smiling slightly. "And once again, you and Ron would agree on that."

Draco bristled, wanting to tell her off for once _again_ comparing him to her idiot frind, but decided against it. There was no use in letting himself get riled up about it.

"So what are you doing out here, Draco?" Hermione asked again.

"It's none of your business, _Granger_ ," he answered, putting extra emphasis on her last name.

"You're an arse, you know that?" she said suddenly. "I don't know why I'm surprised, you always have been."

"Well if I'm such an _arse_ , why do you keep following me around?"

"I - I do _not_ follow you around!" Hermione stammered, pulling her cloak tight. Her face screwed up into an angry frown. "It's my _job_ to patrol, it's not my fault you're out after hours. I should wonder if _you_ didn't plan it this way. It seems like something you would do."

" _Excuse_ me?" Draco said, standing up.

"You heard me," she shot back, turning to face the lake. She tilted her chin up in a look of defiance. "First you snog me crazy, and then you ignore me entirely. Now you're sitting around on my patrol route - the same patrol I do _every_ Thursday and Sunday -"

"Oh, get over yourself," Draco spat. "You were an adequate snog, and that was that. It's done. Maybe I'm humiliated by it now, and that's why I can't stand to look at you."

They fell silent, and when Hermione didn't respond right after, Draco started to feel nervous. He hadn't meant to _really_ hurt her feelings.

Or had he?

"You don't mean that," Hermione said quietly.

Draco didn't say anything.

"Something's not right with you this year," she said. "I've seen the look you get when you think no one's watching. Something's wrong."

"It's under control."

Hermione turned, finally, and looked at him. He felt his breath catch under that gaze; it wasn't sultry, like in his dreams, but it was real. She _saw_ him.

"No it's not," she said flatly. "And when you need help, you know where to find it."

She didn't say anything else, and Draco didn't know what to say after that either. He watched as Hermione, clutching her cloak to herself against the autumn chill, started walking back up to the castle, and he fought the urge to go catch her. As much as he wanted to make her stay, though, he couldn't. And it was as simple as that.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you all for your lovely reviews, especially _hpfan addict_. I love some solid constructive criticism, so if you notice any mistakes, feel free to let me know!

So, a few notes:

No, I didn't bring back Penelope Clearwater. I gave her a younger sister, Eloise, who also became Head Girl.

I don't know if Draco actually played quidditch in his fifth year, it's been a while since I've read the book. My hubby and I are rereading the series though, we're just on the first one right now. For the sake of this story, though, we'll say he did.

I hope you enjoyed the bit about Snape, I thought it was quite realistic that Draco wouldn't take his possible star-crossed romance seriously. Haha. Sadly, Draco has no idea just how true his guess was.

I think that's all for now. Drop me a line, and leave a review, please. It's your feedback that really gets me inspired and makes me want to keep going (constantly).

PennyDreddful


	12. Occlumency and Nighttime Excursions

**Chapter Eleven: Occlumency and Nighttime Excursions**

Draco nearly fell on his face, clutching the back of a chair to keep himself steady. Sweat dripped off of his hair and soaked through his white button-up. He'd stripped off his robes and vest ages ago.

"Again," drawled Snape.

"Just - a minute -" Draco huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Snape rounded on him, looming over his exhausted pupil like a giant angry bat.

"Bellatrix Lestrange won't give you a minute," he said. "She won't give you as much as _five seconds_ before attacking you again. Her teaching style won't be forgiving. Get used to it."

Draco groaned, staggering to his feet. It was half-past ten in the evening, and already his head pounded furiously. It felt like his brain would keep expanding until it cracked his skull wide open.

Then he felt Snape invade his mind once again. All at once his thoughts blurred, dizzying him and making him nauseous.

Draco was six years old and had fallen off of a real broom for the first time. He wailed into his mother's chest while she stroked his hair, gently grasping his very broken wrist.

Now he was nine, overhearing his parents' shouting match from the safety of their dark foyer. Lucius screamed at Narcissa that things wouldn't always be this way, and Narcissa sobbed about not wanting her son to be killed or sent to Azkaban. At the time, Draco had no idea what to make of it, but now he understood that they were fighting about Voldemort.

Suddenly, he was in the library, pressed up against Hermione's soft body, kissing her passionately -

Then he was twelve, and crying quietly in his dorm. The words "her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever" terrified him beyond words, but he was even more afraid to show it.

The memory shifted into something more recent: Draco was practically sprinting through the dungeons, desperate to reach the entrance hall. Snape slowed here, curious, as much as Draco growled with the effort to push him away. They watched together as Draco slipped between a crowd of milling students, stopping silently at the stairwell. He looked up and saw her face among the others, drawing his wand.

Snape fled Draco's memory, ripping away unceremoniously.

Once more, Draco found himself doubled over, clutching at his chest while he tried to catch his breath. He felt like a large part of his brain had been torn out.

This was their umpteenth attempt of the evening, and Snape had been careful to avoid any memories pertaining to Hermione (or Daphne) but he hadn't realized that she was the focus of that last one as well. He didn't skirt around them to spare Draco any embarrassment. Quite to the contrary, Professor Snape didn't want the discomfort of knowing the intimate details of any of his students' relations, especially the young women. He found it revolting and inappropriate.

"That will be all for tonight," Snape said quietly, watching as Draco knelt and placed a palm on the floor to steady himself.

"It's useless," Draco said, closing his eyes against the throbbing in his head.

"Did you think you could learn it in just a few weeks?" Snape hissed. "Don't be a fool, Draco. And don't give up, either. You would regret it later on."

As much as Draco loathed to admit it, Snape had to be right. That didn't make him feel better, though.

Snape didn't wait for him to stand back up before dismissing him from the office. Draco didn't offer a "good night," seeing as his own would be spent trying to recover from this damned headache. Sure it was bitter of him, but it's not like Snape was exactly spouting pleasantries either.

Draco staggered into the corridor, wiping sweat off his brow. As soon as the office door slammed behind him, he collapsed against the cool stone wall and slid to the floor.

So Snape knew, then. He'd known since their first session, and that was that. To his credit, Snape hadn't reacted in the slightest when he'd first stumbled upon Draco's memory and _highly_ sexual dreams, he'd just flitted on to the next thing. He didn't even pause when a pattern quickly emerged, of it always being Hermione Granger's face screwed up in ecstasy, _her_ skin under Draco's fingers. Not that any of that was real.

Still, Draco wasn't finding it any easier to face Snape in class. Especially in a class with Hermione.

Though, speaking of Hermione...

Didn't she say she patrolled on Thursdays and Sundays? Of course, there was no telling who she'd be with tonight. Hopefully not Weasley, since Draco wouldn't have the patience to deal with that tosser. The Inquisitorial Squad hadn't gained even the slightest clue in the weeks since its creation, and that was disappointing, not only to Draco, but to Umbridge as well. Really, didn't he have an obligation to at least _try_ wheedling some info out of a Dumbledore's Army founder?

Massaging his temples, Draco pulled himself to his feet. The trouble _now_ was in actually finding her.

He pulled out his wand, lit the end with a quiet " _Lumos_ ," and started trudging toward the stairs.

...

Hermione and Belen, one of the Hufflepuff prefects, chatted idly while they walked. They got along well enough, really, but Hermione wouldn't ever seek the girl out for stimulating conversation. That being said, Belen's company was preferable over any Slytherin's.

They had already made their rounds, but Hermione still felt restless, and had offered to walk Belen back to the Hufflepuff common room.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to this," Belen mused. She was a fifth year like Hermione, though she approached her prefect duties with starry eyes. Half the time they patrolled, Belen was prattling on about their responsibilities and how strange it was to be out and about after hours. "At least Peeves left us alone tonight."

Hermione had to agree with that. Last week, they'd needed to hole up in a broom cupboard to avoid getting pelted with dungbombs.

"What are you going to do when you have to patrol on your own one day?" Hermione asked, carefully masking her exasperation.

"What? Why would I need to do that?" Belen asked.

"Well," Hermione started, "What if I get sick one evening and can't go? Or if you're patrolling like usual, and your partner gets pulled away to handle some mischief?" She tried her best to be gentle. "You almost sound afraid of being out here on your own."

Belen looked alarmed. "And you're not? I mean, the towers are one thing, but the dungeons are downright creepy. And that's _without_ ghosts popping in and out randomly."

Hermione didn't say anything. She supposed that she just didn't fear things like ghosts or the dark anymore, not now that she understood them. As long as she had her wand, she knew she could manage.

As though on cue, a voice cut through the shadows and made them both jump.

"Oh, come on Hornberger," said a familiar drawling voice, "Can't handle the dungeons on your own?"

Draco Malfoy came around a corner up ahead. He looked disheveled.

"Draco?" Belen gasped. " _Ugh_ , don't do that!"

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked promptly, taking in Draco's untidy hair and wrinkled shirt. It wasn't like him to be messy.

He sneered at them in response, approaching slowly.

"Fine, Granger. Just thought I'd take an evening stroll."

Hermione scowled. For a while, they'd been on a first-name basis. Hell, _she_ didn't refer to _him_ as Malfoy anymore. Some things had changed that permanently.

Something about him caught her attention, however. Ever since the beginning of the year, Draco hadn't looked Hermione in the eye, not if he could avoid it. But now, his gaze actively sought hers out.

"Belen, do you mind going the rest of the way on your own?" Hermione asked, not looking at the Hufflepuff. "It's just a few corridors down."

"Of course not," the other witch replied. She tilted her chin up, daring Draco to comment. "Thanks for the company, Hermione. See you." She raised her wand above her head and left, walking past Draco stiffly.

Once she'd gone, Draco and Hermione stood across from one another, staring hard, and Hermione didn't speak. She folded her arms over her chest, stomping out a little trill of butterflies that reminded her how alone she and Draco now were.

"Now, what's this really about?" Hermione said, studying him carefully. She thought his mussed hair and flushed cheeks suited him well, but tried not to show it.

"You and I need to talk," Draco said. He glanced around at the shadows. "In private."

"This isn't private enough for you?" she returned, doing her best to sound annoyed. Something in the back of her mind prodded at her - was it really talking that he wanted? And why?

A confusing mix of eagerness and fright bubbled up in Hermione's chest. She told herself it was okay to enjoy feeling attractive, if Draco really _was_ aiming for more than a chat. She should bask in the ego boost, really.

Draco didn't answer her question. Instead he peered around cautiously, started walking at her, and grasped her wrist. He pulled her down the corridor almost aggressively. Hermione didn't protest like he expected.

 _She wants it too_ , came a rogue thought in Draco's head. He forced it away. It wasn't true, at any rate.

"In here," he demanded, opening the door to an unused classroom. Hermione only hesitated for a second before striding inside with a kind of confidence, like she didn't want him to think she was afraid. Draco shut the door behind them.

The room was small, as far as classrooms went, with about twelve desks facing a dust-covered chalkboard. A few thin windows let in moonlight from outside. Hermione leaned against the nearest desk, which creaked with age, her robe parting over one slightly-bent knee. Unlike in Draco's dreams, the length of her skirt was modest as usual.

She watched him, expressionless.

"I need to know about Dumbledore's Army," Draco said, deciding to just come out with it.

Whatever Hermione had anticipated, it wasn't that. A look of shock passed over her face.

"Dumbledore's Army?" she repeated. Then her shoulders slumped. "That makes sense. I should have known."

"What did you expect?" Draco asked.

It almost looked like she'd answer, and Draco was very curious to hear what she'd thought, but then she didn't.

"I have nothing to say about it," Hermione said, referring back to his original question.

"I know you're in it," Draco persisted. "You, Potter, and Weasley got it together. So what are you playing at?"

"I _said_ , I have nothing to say about it," Hermione repeated coldly.

Draco clenched his jaw. He crossed his arms and stepped nearer.

"Umbridge is after you for it," he said. "She won't stop until she figures you out. There will be _severe_ punishment."

Hermione snorted. "Umbridge doesn't scare me, Draco."

"She should."

They fell silent, both frowning. Draco eyed Hermione, trying to think of the best way to go about this, but his own frustration got the better of him.

"You _will_ get caught," he said, "And when you do, it will be bad. Whatever it is, it's not worth it."

"How would you know?" Hermione shot back. "You don't know anything about it, so how would you know if it's worthwhile?"

" _Nothing_ Potter drags you into is worthwhile, Hermione. It's not safe. You're too close already."

Hermione stared at him with surprise, which wasn't quite the reaction Draco had expected. She didn't seem angry, but absurdly, something akin to excitement lit her eyes.

"What?" Draco asked slowly. He took a step backward.

Hermione shrugged, giving a small smile. "Nothing, you just called me by my name that time."

Panic flooded Draco's being. This was trouble. He hadn't meant to reveal that tidbit, the fact that in his head, she wasn't just Granger anymore. And Hermione obviously cared to know as much.

"Well it's your name, isn't it," he said lamely, looking down.

He heard the creak of the desk again. Hermione's small black shoes came into view as she stepped right in front of him. His pulse sped up.

"Look at me," she said softly.

Draco did as he was told. He looked up and found himself staring into Hermione's bright hazel eyes. His own flitted briefly over her mouth. Subconsciously, he licked his lips.

"Why do you care?" she asked quietly. "It it because Umbridge wants you to find us out, or is it something else?"

"You're just too smart to get caught doing something so bloody _stupid_ ," he said, though not harshly. "Potter and Weasley keep getting you into trouble."

Hermione tilted her head curiously. "Trouble, like tripping on the stairs last year?"

Draco's eyes widened. She'd figured it out? He'd thought - he'd made _sure_ she hadn't seen him. How did she know? Guilt flooded through him as he remembered her bandaged leg, and her limp during the following days.

He realized that this meant even more than that. Bloody hell, did she think he'd known about Cedric before the murder? How could she be so damn _calm_ right now?

"Your confundus charm wouldn't have done any harm," Hermione said, as though reading his thoughts. "It only did because I was on the staircase with that missing step. My ankle wouldn't have broken otherwise."

"I - it _broke?_ " Draco choked, looking down at Hermione's bare ankle.

She nodded calmly. "Just a fracture. But it did hurt, you know."

"I'm sorry," Draco said suddenly. "I didn't mean -"

"I don't think you meant for _anyone_ to get hurt," Hermione interrupted. She spoke slowly, carefully deciding her words. "I don't think you like to see people hurt, and that's why you're here tonight. You're not a bad person. I don't believe that."

"That's highly optimistic." He couldn't meet her gaze. Not only did he feel immensely guilty, and rightly-so, but she was just too damn _close_.

One of her small hands pressed lightly to the side of his face, and Draco blinked in panic when she turned him back to look at her. Hermione gave him a pointed stare, warning him against turning away again, and lowered her hand.

Impulsively, Draco reached up and caught it, surprising himself as much as her. He held her wrist so that her fingertips remained touching his cheek.

They stood like that for nearly a minute before speaking.

"Why me?" he asked. It occurred to him that maybe this wasn't special, maybe Hermione just saw the best in everyone and spent her evenings doing this with all the other students in school. He felt sick at the idea of her looking at another guy like this.

Hermione gave the slightest shrug, not removing her hand from his. "I really don't know."

" _STUDENTS OUT OF BED!_ "

Draco and Hermione jumped, instinctively separating from one another and drawing their wands. Peeves had floated through the wall and spotted them, and was now pointing and cackling at the pair.

"LITTLE LOVEY-DOVIES SNEAKING ABOUT!" Peeves bellowed. He swept toward the door, juggling a few pieces of chalk as he went. "COME AND GET 'EM! LITTLE BITTY LOVIES THOUGHT THEY'D HAVE A _LITTLE BITTY_ -"

Hermione grabbed a handful of Draco's robes and yanked him out the door - a chill passed through them as they sprinted directly through the poltergeist - and she pulled him into a dead sprint to escape Peeves's thundering profanities. They ran down one corridor, then another, and soon Draco was clutching Hermione's arm to urge her up a set of stairs faster. They didn't see Filch or anyone else, thank Merlin.

After a bit Hermione slowed, trying to catch her breath, but at the sound of Peeves's echoing laughter, Draco towed her further on. He didn't let them stop until they burst out onto the relative safety of the Astronomy Tower.

Immediately Hermione doubled over to catch her breath. Draco felt rather winded, too.

" _Fucking_ \- _Peeves_ ," she wheezed.

After a pause, Draco laughed. He hadn't expected to hear that kind of language from the always-good, always-proper Hermione Granger. At his chuckle she caught his eye and laughed too, holding a stitch in her side.

They slumped against the balustrade together, exhausted, and soon Draco realized that Hermione was leaning against him, her head on his shoulder. This rest felt good, considering how haggard the occlumency practice had made Draco. His limbs felt heavy.

No more interrogation was attempted that evening; instead, their breathing finally slowed, a cool November breeze ruffled their hair, and soon they were both lulled into sleep.

...

Draco opened his eyes blearily. He could hear birds chirping, and a stiff wind chilled the skin of his face. Was he _outside?_

He realized soon enough that he was on the Astronomy Tower. He must have fallen asleep before he could make it back to his dormitory... The stone floor of the balcony had bitten into his back all night, and he felt sore. When he went to move, he realized he couldn't.

Someone was on his arm.

After drifting off while sitting against the balustrade, he and Hermione must have slumped over in their sleep and ended up laying on the ground. She faced him, curled up with her robes drawn close to keep warm, her head using Draco's bicep like a pillow. Her wild hair spilled over his shoulder and the ends picked up slightly with each breeze.

He was too afraid to move for a long time, and just stayed like that, his arm trapped under her head, his mind whirling with dangerous notions.

 _She fell asleep on me_ , he thought in amazement. But that itself wasn't what struck him with awe - it was seeing her now, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, huddled close to him. In a different world, it would have been romantic. But here...

Draco wouldn't lie, it flooded his chest with an intense feeling of comfort and contentment to be so close with another person. Would he have those same feelings if it were Daphne lying next to him? Or even Pansy? Probably.

He told himself that firmly.

The issue was, he - _they_ \- couldn't stay up on that tower all morning. He had to wake her up. Who knew what time it was? What if they had already missed class?

Just as Draco went to nudge Hermione with his free hand, her eyes clenched shut even tighter and, in her sleep, she buried her face into his robes. She nuzzles closer to him with a sigh, drawing her knees up until they rested against Draco's stomach.

Now what?

 _Who needs class anyway_ , he thought dumbly, even more afraid to move.

He didn't remember anything specific about his dreams last night, and when that dawned on him, dread filled Draco's stomach. Sure, she was sleeping peacefully enough right _now_ , but what if he'd woken her up during the night from moaning her name? Not that Draco knew whether or not he talked in his sleep, but it was a definite possibility.

 _Not a chance_ , he told himself, _If she'd woken up, she'd be long gone by now..._

Would she, though?

Carefully, and very unsure of himself, Draco situated himself on his side and set a hand gently on Hermione's shoulder. That wasn't too personal a spot, and it's where his hand would fall naturally in this position. He set his head against the stone and closed his eyes.

This was nice. If he'd woken up sometime last night to find himself cuddled up like this, he knew damn well that he'd stay. It was the first time he'd ever technically spent the night with a girl - and this was certainly not how he'd imagined it, freezing on top of the Astronomy Tower after fleeing from Peeves - but it was so _nice_. He didn't think he could leave if he'd wanted to.

Hermione drew in a deep breath, squirming on the hard flagstone. Her eyes opened very slowly, a look of complete comfort on her face.

She shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide as saucers.

"Oh my god," she said, her voice hoarse. She pulled her robes tight, like she was afraid of exposing herself. "Oh my _god_."

Draco, though startled by her sudden awakening, rolled onto his back and stretched out his arms leisurely.

" _Oh my god_ ," Hermione repeated.

"Sleep well?" Draco drawled, placing his hands behind his head in a show of ease.

She rounded on him.

" _You_ \- we - oh my _god!_ "

"You're acting like we did something _very_ shameful," Draco said with a smirk. Hermione was kind of cute when she worried.

"We fell asleep _outside!_ " She pulled herself up and looked out on the grounds. " _Together!_ Oh _no_ , what will they think?"

"What will who think?" Draco asked, standing up and rubbing his sore shoulder. "And what makes you think that anyone will know?"

Hermione finally took pause at this, like she hadn't considered that herself. Perhaps it took a while for her characteristic wit to kick in.

"No, I suppose you're right," she said. "No one will know."

Draco didn't care for the expression of concern she wore, almost bordering on embarrassment. As soon as he thought that, she began chewing on her thumbnail and glanced up at him worriedly.

"I didn't... _do_ anything, did I? While I was sleeping?"

"Not a thing," Draco said. Then he grinned. "Unless you count drooling, muttering, _groping_ -"

"You're not funny," she snapped, though a deep blush colored her cheeks.

Still smirking, Draco's gaze softened. "No, you didn't do anything."

Hermione looked up nervously through her eyelashes, giving him a small smile. Draco thought he could get used to that.

They didn't speak for a few minutes. Draco leaned against the railing and studied Hermione, and she pulled her robe even tighter and gazed off toward the horizon. A gust of wind brushed her hair back from her face, and she shivered.

Draco pushed off from the balustrade.

"You're cold," he said. "We should go, anyway."

Hermione looked back at him uncertainly, but nodded. He opened the trap door and let her back into the castle first.

It seemed like as soon as they crossed into the stairwell and the safety of Hogwarts' walls, all of the warmth returned to their bodies. Even Draco let out a grateful sigh at that; his fingers were numb with cold.

At the bottom landing, Draco peered cautiously around the corner. He didn't see anyone walking about, and couldn't hear anyone either. The Ravenclaw common room wasn't far from here, he knew, so if anyone in the castle was awake yet, he'd be able to hear at least _something_.

"It's safe," he said quietly. "It must be early."

Hermione didn't respond. He noticed that she walked fairly close to him as they made their way down the hall, but she didn't look at him once.

They reached the main stairwell. She would go up, and he would go down.

"Er - what now?" Hermione asked, only glancing up at him briefly.

"What do you mean?" Draco said. "You go one way, and I go the other."

Her eyebrows drew together. Was that disappointment he saw in her eyes?

"This... It doesn't change anything," Draco said. "It _can't_ change anything. Right?"

Now something _definitely_ flashed through her eyes, but before Draco could be sure what it was, Hermione schooled her features into a blank mask. She looked him squarely in the face.

"So we forget it happened."

"We _have_ to," Draco said honestly.

"Fine then," Hermione said, nodding. "See you around, Malfoy."

She turned, shaking her head, and set off up the stairs.

...

Draco made his way back into the common room shortly after that, careful not to make any noise. The grandfather clock in the corner read six-twelve in the morning. Most students didn't wake until seven for breakfast.

So he was quite surprised to find Blaise sprawled on the couch, half-asleep, already dressed.

Blaise sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes.

"Where have you been?" he asked, then yawned. "Pansy and I waited up for you, but you never came back. Snape didn't keep you all night, did he?"

"What? No," Draco said. He flopped down beside Blaise on the couch. "Don't worry about it."

"Not Snape? And you didn't run into Pansy?"

"Pansy?" Draco asked.

Blaise looked at Draco, almost concerned. "Yeah, she snuck out right before midnight. I was still out here, and she kept telling me I should go to bed. I don't think she wanted me to know she was leaving... She seemed nervous."

Like providence, the common room door creaked open; the boys turned to find Pansy creeping in, holding her shoes and robe. She cringed at the sound of the door before noticing she wasn't alone.

She dropped her shoes.

"Why are you up so early?" She demanded. Self-consciously, she ran a hand through her long dark hair, which seemed messier than usual.

"I think _we_ should be asking _you_ that," Blaise returned, clearly agitated. "You look awful."

This was true - Pansy's blouse was untucked from her skirt, and the buttons weren't done up correctly so the whole shirt looked lopsided. There were dark circles under her eyes.

She scowled. "That's rude, Blaise."

Blaise turned back around to glare at the fireplace, muttering under his breath. The fact that he didn't argue meant he knew she was right.

"Really though, where were you?" Draco asked. He was surprised that they hadn't crossed paths in the corridor.

"It's _really_ none of your business," Pansy snapped. She bent to gather up her shoes again before walking quickly toward the girls' dormitories. She was blushing.

Draco watched her go curiously. Apparently he hadn't been the _only_ one having an interesting night.

Blaise, however, didn't seem very amused by any of this. He stood up from the couch with a huff - really, he got a bit catty when he was upset - and stomped off the other way.

"Well _apparently_ I don't get to know anything anymore," he said. "Maybe I'll see you at breakfast. Or maybe you won't show up. I _guess_ you'll just have to surprise me."

With that Draco's other best friend left for their dormitory, leaving Draco alone in the common room. He knew he should be more concerned about Pansy's mischievous wanderings and Blaise's anger at being blown off, but his mind was otherwise occupied. He could almost still feel the weight of Hermione's head on his arm, and the way she'd nestled into him while she slept. And he could _definitely_ feel that same contentedness taking him over, which he really didn't mind at all.

* * *

 **A/N:** So to be honest, the _fucking Peeves_ line came about because I was re-reading that part, and found myself thinking it. Haha. Oh, the joys of poorly-timed interruption. I think it led to something notable though, and hopefully you guys agree.

Someone mentioned in a comment that Draco's gotten pretty soft compared to how he is in the books, and I agree with you on that. I don't want to pull him too out-of-character, but some of that is purposeful - after the Yule Ball incident, something in him changed. I think he's going to be more introspective, especially since he actively made an effort to change things (when he kept Hermione from going to the third task). Please let me know if he get's too far from himself, though! Really.

Aside from that, thank you for your wonderful reviews! Please let me know what you think, it means everything.

PennyDreddful

P.S. - I wonder where Pansy was running off to, hm? ;)


	13. The Christmas Visit

**Chapter Twelve: The Christmas Visit**

Several weeks passed by, and November slid quickly into December. Draco wondered where the time had gone when he found himself packing up for the winter holiday with Blaise; after that night in November, Draco had made up his mind to patch up their friendship. It got easy very quickly, too, seeing as Pansy was never around anymore. Except for when Draco had the _least_ amount of patience for it.

" _Psst_ , Draco," she hissed, pushing her breakfast half-heartedly around her plate. They sat in the Great Hall on the final day of class before the break, and Draco was poring over some final notes for a test in Arithmancy.

"Not now, Pansy," he mumbled.

But Pansy snaked her arm though his and leaned her head on his shoulder, batting her eyes up at him.

"Say something funny," she demanded, the aggressive tone in her voice not matching that doe-like expression on her face.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Something _funny_ ," Pansy repeated, frowning. "Hurry up, this doesn't look very convincing."

Draco, completely bewildered by Pansy's orders, turned to glance on his other side at Blaise. Blaise sat sipping his coffee and browsing the Daily Prophet boredly.

"McLaggen," Blaise said, not looking up.

Scanning over the Gryffindor table - and feeling an odd sense of emptiness when he saw that Hermione wasn't there - Draco found Cormac McLaggen surrounded by a group of fourth-year girls. They giggled at him, and Draco could see an arrogant, wolfish look in McLaggen's eye. As Draco watched, Cormac wrapped his arm around the nearest girl, a particularly slender and pretty redhead.

"Hang on," Draco said, narrowing his eyes. "I thought you and McLaggen were together."

Pansy's grip on Draco's elbow tightened.

"It's fine," she said. "He's just... Distracted. I just need to distract him back. Now say something _funny_ , dammit."

When Draco only gave her a more bewildered look, Pansy threw her head back and pealed with laughter. Loudly. Realizing he didn't fit the picture just yet, Draco tried to chuckle.

"Oh _Draco_ ," she said with considerably more volume than necessary, "You tell simply the _best_ jokes!"

Hoping that had done the trick, mostly so Pansy wouldn't keep giggling in his ear like that, Draco spied the Gryffindor table again. Sure enough, McLaggen was frowning at them. He at least had his arms to himself, this time.

Suddenly Pansy was yanking on Draco's robes, trying to pull him out of his seat.

"Get up," she hissed dangerously. Draco, once again, followed her orders. He wasn't that hungry anyway.

Now Pansy looped an arm around his waist and led him out of the Great Hall, leaning heavily against Draco's tall form. He could feel McLaggen's jealous glare on their backs.

They nearly walked face-first into a group of Gryffindors, some of which sneered in disgust at them.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Weasley said. He stood beside Potter, who looked equally unhappy, and Ernie Macmillan. Hermione trailed behind them, her nose stuck in a book, and Draco's chest tightened.

He hadn't seen her since the night on the Astronomy Tower. Not really. Sure, they had classes together, but any time he looked Hermione's way, her attention was somewhere else entirely. He didn't like it.

Now she looked up, closing her book quietly. She frowned at Pansy, eyeing their interlinked arms dully, and her frown deepened.

"Learn some manners, Weasel," Pansy spat shrilly. "You wouldn't want to give us a reason to dock you points, would you?"

Weasley blanched. "You can't do that. Prefects can't take points -"

"We know they can't, _Weasel King_ ," Draco drawled, "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad _can_."

The four Gryffindors huffed angrily. They already knew about the Squad, but apparently only Hermione had taken care to know the added benefits given to Inquisitorial Squad members. The others seemed astonished.

"Whatever, they're not worth our time," Hermione said. She crossed her arms. "Let's just get to breakfast."

"Why the rush?" taunted Pansy. "Think anyone will miss you?"

Draco didn't like where this was going. In addition, Hermione's words had stung a lot more than he liked. Not worth her time, was he?

"More than you lot, yeah," Macmillan said. "Besides, Malfoy's making it up. Students can't possibly take points."

"Oh yeah?" Draco growled. He could feel himself getting unreasonably angry. "Well let's show you then, shall we? Granger, I'll have five points for being rude... Macmillan, five more for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Oh and Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll take another five for that."

The Gryffindors peered in alarm into the Great Hall, where the red hourglass with their house points was now visibly draining. While the boys had bristled, Hermione was stubbornly unfazed. That irked Draco more than anything.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Draco said before he could stop himself. "You're a _mudblood_ , Granger, so ten for that too."

This time Hermione looked at him squarely. She looked... Bored. Meanwhile, Weasley and Potter had both drawn their wands.

"How _dare_ you-"

"You slimy _git_ -"

But Hermione touched Harry's arm, which caught his attention. Weasley still fumed.

"Ignore him, he's just being an arse. Like usual." Hermione spared a rather volatile glare for Pansy, however, before walking away without so much as a glance in Draco's direction.

The boys followed, wands still drawn, and then stalked into the Great Hall. Pansy sighed.

"They shouldn't be allowed," she muttered, before her eyes landed back on Cormac McLaggen. He had returned to flirting with those fourth-years.

Pansy slumped, letting go of Draco's arm. She didn't say anything else as they made their way down to the dungeons.

...

Later that evening, Draco and Blaise sat out in the common room, playing wizard's chess. It was well-past midnight, and all the others had gone to bed, but the friends knew they wouldn't get to see each other over the Christmas holiday. They also wanted to celebrate the last of their classes. As much was made obvious by the towering pile of crumpled chocolate frog cards and empty butterbeer bottles which sat beside them.

They hadn't spoken for a while now, focused entirely on the game. Blaise was winning. Draco didn't notice at first when his friend looked up from the board and stared over Draco's shoulder.

"Pansy?"

Draco turned. Surely enough, Pansy stood cringing in the hall to her dormitory. She sighed deeply and walked out into the light from the fireplace.

"Are you _dressed?_ " Draco asked. Of course she was dressed, but it wasn't her usual pajamas, and it wasn't exactly her school uniform either. She wore a tight-fitting blouse and bleached jeans that left little to the imagination. It looked like she had lipstick on, too.

"Do you guys _never_ sleep?" she asked, growing nervous.

"Where are you off to, then?" Blaise demanded, ignoring her question.

She appeared uncomfortable at first, fiddling with the edge of her shirt, before steeling over and jutting her chin out defiantly.

"It's none of your business, Blaise." She strode past the couch and toward the common room door.

"Hang on," Draco said, "This doesn't have to do with McLaggen, does it?"

Judging by the way she flushed, he had guessed correctly. He could feel Blaise shaking his head furiously, wobbling the entire couch as he did so.

" _No_ , Pansy." Blaise crossed his arms.

" _Excuse_ me?" she replied, rounding on him.

"You're not going."

"Try and stop me!" Pansy dared him.

Draco looked back and forth between his two friends uneasily. Knowing their tempers, this could turn into a duel very quickly. And Draco was sitting right between them.

Fortunately for everyone, Blaise only scowled unattractively in response, sinking lower into his seat on the couch. Pansy sniffed indignantly, sticking her nose in the air, and threw open the door to the corridor. It didn't slam shut, like Draco had expected, but merely drifted closed with a light click.

Draco turned cautiously back to Blaise, who was glaring at the fireplace.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" Draco asked.

Blaise kicked the chessboard, scattering pieces across the table and the floor. He said nothing.

Sighing tiredly, Draco ruffled his hair and stood, prepared to admit defeat and get some sleep.

"What do you suppose they're doing?" Blaise asked quietly.

This caught Draco off-guard. He slowly sat back down. Blaise was still not looking at him.

"I have some ideas," Draco said vaguely.

"She's too good for him," Blaise said, voice low.

An odd feeling trickled through Draco. Gradually, an idea dawned on him, one that made him curious as well as a bit uncomfortable. He eyed his friend warily.

"You don't want her to be with him," Draco said.

Blaise glanced his way. "Of course not, the kid's a tosser. I thought you didn't like it, either."

"No, of course not," Draco said. "But I mean... You don't _fancy_ her, do you?"

"What?" Blaise blinked in surprise. "Pansy? No. That's not what this is about. It's like I said: he's just _not_ good enough. I don't want her to get hurt."

 _So much for that theory_ , Draco thought, that odd feeling draining away. To be honest, he was somewhat relieved.

"No," he agreed, "I don't want her to get hurt, either."

"She's like my sister, you know," Blaise said. "I always figured it was the same for you. And you're the closest thing I have to a brother."

Draco didn't say anything. Blaise didn't usually get into personal topics like this.

"You're both getting yourselves into trouble, you know that?" Blaise said, almost inaudibly. "You with Granger - don't argue with me, I know something's going on - and her with McLaggen. Except Granger doesn't look at you like that, like you're some kind of a conquest to make."

"These days, she doesn't look at me at all," Draco admitted.

Blaise furrowed his brows. "Still. It won't be her fault, not entirely, when it goes to shit. She can't help that she's muggle-born - and you think I hate her, but I don't. She's a decent witch, that one." He swallowed hard. "You don't... I mean, with Pansy, you don't worry? You're not worried that McLaggen will hurt her?"

In all sincerity, the thought hadn't crossed Draco's mind. Here he'd thrown himself into fixing things with Blaise and he'd almost ignored Pansy's situation entirely. And sure, he thought of them as siblings; neither of the three had brothers or sisters of their own.

Now that Blaise had brought it up, this terrifying image came to mind: Pansy sobbing, heartbroken or hurt. The girl didn't cry, at least not in front of them. It just wasn't done. She got angry, and ranted, and stormed off, but she just didn't _cry_ like that.

"She's stronger than we think," he said weakly, skirting around Blaise's question.

Blaise let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. "It's a good thing I don't have any _real_ sisters. I don't think I'd be able to let them out of my sight."

All Draco could manage was a nod.

...

The next day, Blaise and Draco woke up sprawled on the couch and floor. They'd waited up for Pansy, but she never came back. Now it was ten in the morning and they were hauling their trunks down the corridor, ready to get on an unmanned carriage and then on to the Hogwarts Express.

They didn't see Pansy on their way over, and it made them nervous.

"I swear to Merlin," Blaise seethed, "I'll _kill_ that git if he hurts her."

Draco followed Blaise onto the train, where they found an empty compartment and let themselves inside. They left the door open in case Pansy came looking for them.

While they waited, Draco finally got Blaise back to normal, talking about quidditch and their Transfiguration review (Blaise always had a keen interest in McGonagall's class) when someone rapped lightly on the open door. They stood quickly, expecting Pansy. Instead, Luna Lovegood looked back on them with her wide blue eyes, clutching a stack of magazines to her breast. Her mane of blonde hair was braided messily over one shoulder, and Draco saw that she wore pink trainers under her robes.

"Quibbler?" she offered airily, extending a copy to Blaise first. Blaise, however, had promptly sat back down and was now staring blankly out the window.

"None for us, thanks," Draco said. He'd never cared much for Luna; she was just never entirely present, he didn't think.

She shrugged her shoulders, though, and wished them a happy Christmas before continuing down the line of compartments.

"That's an odd one," Draco said, shaking his head. Blaise didn't respond.

As much as he tried, Draco couldn't get Blaise back into a light conversation this time. His friend was even more troubled now, probably at having gotten his hopes up that Pansy was back, only to be disappointed. Draco did wonder if there might be something more to it, but he didn't ask.

The train lurched as it hooted its horn and started chugging away from Hogwarts' station. Their compartment door nearly slid closed, but a small hand caught it.

Briefly, all Draco saw was a dainty hand, small frame, and dark hair, and he thought it might be Hermione. His stomach dropped when he saw Pansy's smiling face.

"Oh good, it's just us then," she said brightly. "I left my things with Cormac, but told him I wanted to ride with you two. At least for part of it."

She sat down next to Blaise, who had so far refused to look her way. If he hadn't been so honestly confused when Draco had thought he might fancy Pansy, Draco might have believed that was the case now. He certainly _seemed_ jealous.

"You seem... well," Draco said, feeling awkward. Pansy beamed at him in response.

"I am, thank you very much." She tossed her long hair and stared pointedly at Blaise. After a minute, he seemed to catch on, and finally looked back at her.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm sorry I was being such a prat last night. Are you happy?"

Pansy settled back into her seat contentedly. "Yes, thank you."

"And you're..?" Blaise swallowed, studying her. "You're alright, then?"

"More than alright, actually," she said. "I _told_ you it would be fine. Honestly."

That relaxed Blaise quite a bit, and though Draco knew he still really disliked McLaggen, they could at least chat normally and forget about that for now. Pansy didn't say what she'd spent the last night doing, and they didn't ask, either. Instead they fell into companionable bickering about whose holiday would be the worst (being high society, their families would all expect them to attend numerous boring events) and wondering aloud at what gifts they might receive this year. It made Draco feel at home.

Occasionally during a lull in the conversation, Draco leaned back and stared at the compartment door. He didn't think that Hermione went home for the winter holidays. But then, he didn't really know _anything_ about her home life. It certainly wouldn't involve magic. He began wondering what a muggle Christmas looked like, or trying to picture her house. He even wondered if she had any siblings or pets.

He didn't like that their last interaction had gone so badly. Really, he never meant to call her a mudblood again. He hated the word, now. But there had been something desperate inside him at that moment, something that needed to get _some_ kind of a reaction out of that girl. And why was she freezing him out all of a sudden? Just a few weeks ago she'd been trying often to get his attention. Back then, _he'd_ been the one ignoring _her_. He knew it had to do with the morning after the Astronomy Tower, but didn't know why she'd gotten so upset with him.

Ever since that morning when he'd woken up next to her, Draco could always feel her there. He fell asleep in the evenings on his side, closing his eyes, and trying to relive that moment. The curtains on his four-poster were always drawn tightly for this; he couldn't have his roommates knowing that he'd gotten so soft.

His musings were interrupted by the trolley woman, who sold a pile of sweets to Draco and Blaise. Pansy hadn't bought anything, but eventually ventured to suck on a sugar quill.

She left some time after that, off to visit with McLaggen, and Draco and Blaise didn't talk much when she'd gone. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Each boy had plenty to occupy his thoughts.

...

The days leading up to Christmas went by quickly, aside from several evenings which required Draco to put on dress robes and socialize with his parents' rich friends - those dragged on terribly. Finally, though, Christmas morning arrived.

Malfoy Manor was always impeccably decorated for Yule, rivaling even Hogwarts' own grand trees and the enchanted snow which drifted from the Great Hall ceiling. Malfoy Manor, in contrast, wasn't warm and festive, but instead Pinny had draped garlands of crystal down every bannister and from the chandeliers; the towering Christmas tree in the parlor had sparkling icicles hanging from every bough and fireflies charmed to drift between the branches, causing it to glitter regally. In fact, the Malfoys typically opted for silvers and golds in their holiday decor, instead of warm reds and greens and the bright-colored baubles that "lesser" families always favored.

Draco woke up early on Christmas morning, he always did, even though his parents wouldn't join him for breakfast until nine. As much as he disliked Pinny, Draco knew it was quite thoughtful that the house elf always left a plate of sweets and frosted cookies for him. Dobby had done that, too. This year, he even found a steaming cup of cocoa topped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate.

 _Alright, she's not that bad_ , he thought, taking a gingerbread cookie and munching on it. He picked up the mug of cocoa and went to sit by the fire.

The parlor had their largest fireplace, typically meant for floo, and that was probably why his mother liked to keep the tree there. A roaring flame warmed the room, and on the mantle (which was higher than Draco was tall) Draco saw their three snow-white stockings had been filled. His, emblazoned with a glowing "D," looked the fullest.

Under the tree, stacks of packages leaned against one another, wrapped in gold with icy bows. He could count twenty easily, and that didn't include the few in the back wrapped in gaudy colors - no doubt those came from relatives and his school friends.

He pulled out two of these, checking the tags. From Blaise, there was a Slytherin-green gift bag (with a matching bag addressed to Draco's parents) and from Pansy, a shiny royal-blue package with a gray flannel bow. The Parkinsons had that same classy style as any respectable pureblood family, but everything of theirs always had a cozy touch to it that Draco liked.

His parents didn't mind if Draco broke into his friends' gifts early, so long as all of their parcels went untouched until after breakfast. Knowing this, he ripped open Pansy's present eagerly. A note fell out.

 _Saw you looking at this in Zonko's_ , it read in Pansy's round cursive. _Open the box when you're alone_.

Sure enough, the box was labeled from Flourish and Blott's, apparently "Self-Writing Quills." He popped open the lid to find something else entirely, and laughed aloud.

She'd gotten him an assortment of the Weasley's magicked sweets. Fred and George Weasley had been making them for the last year, and had taken up a corner rack at Zonko's Joke Shop to sell them. There were licorice strips that slapped you in the face when you ate them, gumballs that turned your hair different colors while being chewed, candy crystals that sizzled on your tongue (the younger students liked to eat these in the common room, opening their mouths to shoot little fireworks at one another) and Draco's personal favorite, little red cinnamon candies that made you breathe fire for minutes after being eaten. He wouldn't dare try any of these in front of other people, and certainly not his parents. In fact, Pansy was the only person who knew that Draco really admired the Weasley twins and their products.

He closed the box, grinning. He shuffled through Blaise's gift bag, which had something much more normal in it: a top-of-the-line broom polishing kit, along with a gift card to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.

Like Pansy's gift, there was a note tucked inside this one too.

 _Happy Christmas, Draco. I'm sorry I've been such a git about things. Maybe you can find someone to take out for a Hogsmeade weekend - I hear some girls rather like the mulled mead here._

Draco blinked. Blaise wasn't talking about _Hermione_ , was he?

He reread the note several times, a kind of warm flush taking him over. It sure sounded like Blaise was dropping a hint.

Sitting back and staring at his two friends' gifts, Draco's heart swelled. Not that he wanted to get overly sentimental, but these might have been the best presents he'd ever received in his life. He carefully tucked the items back into the gift bag and stowed them away in his room - not without trying one of those cinnamon candies first, of course.

It was a while after that when his mother and father came down the stairs. Even in their casual clothes, the pair looked positively royal, with their long blond hair and flawless pale skin. Lucius didn't appear as gaunt as he had over the summer. They sipped on coffee and and ate their biscuits in the foyer; this was the only day of the year when Narcissa Malfoy would sit on the rug. Her eyes shone with merriment. She loved Christmas.

"You have two weeks before you go back, is that right?" Lucius asked, peering down at Draco. They had been slowly working their way through the presents, most of which went to their son.

"That's right," Draco said. "Classes start on the fifth."

He saw a heavy look pass between his parents.

"Your Aunt and I have been speaking about you," Lucius said. "We think it would be best for you to start your Occlumency lessons before you go."

Draco's stomach dropped.

"That soon?" he asked, his voice cracking. His mother reached over and placed a hand on his knee.

"It takes quite a while to learn, darling," she cooed.

"I can't," Draco said flatly.

"What do you mean, you _can't_?" Lucius set down his coffee and glared, disapprovingly, at his son. "Why on _earth_ do you insist on putting it off? Perhaps you don't fully understand the necessity of this skill -"

"Lucius," Narcissa warned, sensing her husband's anger.

"That's not it," Draco argued. "I _do_ understand. You have no _idea_ how much I understand."

"Well then please enlighten us," Lucius said, carefully controlling his voice, "And explain why you refuse to learn."

Draco didn't know what to say. He'd never told his parents about his lessons with Snape, and he didn't think that Snape had told them either. Would they be mad? Would they think it inappropriate?

"Draco?" his mother said softly, seeking out his gaze.

He sighed. "Professor Snape is already teaching me. I wanted his help before I tried with Aunt Bella."

Narcissa withdrew her hand. She glanced at her husband, a bit worried.

"Severus?" Lucius asked, giving Draco a steely look.

"Yes, father."

"But why?" Lucius demanded. "You're not hiding something from us, are you? What reason could you possibly have for _sneaking about_ behind our backs -"

"There's been a girl..."

Draco blurted as much out before really thinking about it. If his mother had appeared anxious before, now she looked like she might faint. Lucius looked surprised, but there was something else in his expression that Draco couldn't quite place.

"Narcissa," Lucius said quietly, "Why don't you go freshen up, dear. You look ill."

She nodded, rising gracefully to her feet before walking slowly out of the room. When her husband told her to do something, she did as asked without question. Such was the duty of wifehood. This time, though, it was a glad escape.

Draco stared at the floor, eyes wide in terror. What had he just done? He'd never so much as _mentioned_ a girl before, not to _them_. And now it sounded like he'd gone off and _shagged_ somebody...

"I didn't realize..." Lucius said, almost pensively. "Forgive me, Draco, I should have known better. You're not a boy anymore."

Of all the possible outcomes, Draco never thought his father might react so calmly right now.

 _He's not just calm_ , he realized. _He's apologizing. Bloody hell_.

"Who is the young lady?"

Draco snapped to attention.

"Was," he corrected quickly. Then, deciding to go the route of honesty: "Daphne Greengrass."

Lucius straightened up a bit at that.

"Greengrass?" he repeated, now deep in thought. "That's a fine family. You're not - _with_ her, anymore?"

Draco shook his head.

"I see."

They fell into silence. Unlike the silence he shared in Blaise or Pansy's company, however, Draco thought this was quite uncomfortable.

"Do you know what you're doing?" his father asked. "How to be... safe?"

Draco could feel his face burning at the question, and muttered an affirmative under his breath. He desperately wanted to escape this conversation. This was almost worse than if he'd made his father angry...

 _Don't be daft,_ he told himself _. Of course this is better. But that doesn't mean you need to like it._

Just then, the fireplace burst into a frenzy of emerald-green flames. Draco jumped to his feet as someone stumbled through onto the rug, scattering ash about.

"Draco!" Blaise panted. "Oh, hello, Mr. Malfoy, didn't see you there. Might I borrow Draco for a moment? There's a bit of a situation."

Lucius, still surprised by Blaise's sudden entrance, narrowed his eyes. This was _highly_ improper.

Blaise, sensing danger, turned to Draco.

"It's Pansy," he said, and Draco realized now just how pale his friend looked. "She's - well, you'll just need to see for yourself -"

Draco looked at his father, who merely nodded back at him.

"Thanks, Mr. Malfoy," Blaise said quickly. "Happy Christmas - enjoy the wine, my father got that in the States - give Mrs. Malfoy my best -"

With that, Blaise sank his fingers into Draco's arm, and hauled him back into the fire.

* * *

 **A/N** : Bum-BUM-bummmm.

I'm truly sorry there wasn't a lot of Dramione going on in this chapter - such is the trouble with a slow-burning romance. :/ I assure you though, it's going to pick up soon. And it will be intense.

Personally, I think it's important to explore this side of Draco's life. From the books we kind of only think about his life in terms of how it relates to Harry's story, not his own. And the relationships between Draco, Blaise, and Pansy are important.

Speaking of, what do you think is _really_ going on here? There are so many possibilities! Blaise has been very mysterious lately, after all.

Thank you to my excellent reviewers! You're all wonderful. Let me know what you think, please!

PennyDreddful


	14. Cormac McLaggen's Fatal Mistake

**Chapter Thirteen: Cormac McLaggen's Fatal Mistake**

Draco and Blaise fell out into the Zabini's main foyer. Draco had visited many times before, so the exotic and grand decor didn't surprise him. As Blaise's parents had met and gone to school in Persia, their mansion here had been built with a distinctive Middle-Eastern flair. Steep marble columns held up the second-floor balcony, with flowering vines winding about their bases. A charmed fountain on the upstairs landing spilled crystalline water into a raised pool below, landing languidly and without a splash.

Blaise, still gripping Draco's arm, ran up the stairs and veered toward the East Wing, which was solely his own. Draco trotted to keep up, his pulse pounding.

Soon they had come to the end of a long hallway into Blaise's private den, and Draco could already hear muffled sobs. The wide door into Blaise's bedroom was shut tight, but even the dense oak couldn't block out the sound entirely. Something akin to terror mounted in Draco's chest.

His friend slowed in his approach to the door, and rapped lightly on it with his knuckles.

"Pansy, we're back," Blaise called softly. "Is it alright for us to come in?"

The cries ceased at the sound of his voice. Draco heard Pansy sniff a few times before answering.

"Yes." The pain in her voice carried, though she'd spoken in almost a whisper. Draco and Blaise shared a look, Blaise's eyebrows drawn together worriedly, while Draco's eyes had only widened in fear.

They opened the door and revealed Blaise's bedroom. Floor-length windows spilled in silvery winter light from outside, with thick chintz curtains roped off to frame them nicely. His bed could easily fit four people, and was draped with similar dressings. Though it would be easy to get distracted by the top-class broom models hung on his wall or his closet stocked full with regal dress robes, Draco's eyes landed on the far corner of the room, where Pansy sat, huddled, looking entirely too small and distraught.

"Pansy, what's wrong?" Draco asked. He started toward her, then hesitated. He wasn't the best at dealing with crying girls. And dealing with a crying Pansy was even worse.

Blaise, in contrast, seemed to know exactly what to do. He swept a knitted blanket off of his bed and brought it to the shuddering witch. He knelt beside her and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"I - I -" she tried, but then screwed her face up in anguish, coughing out another long set of sobs. Blaise sat and pulled her over so that she was crying into his chest.

At a subtle motion from Blaise, Draco turned to look at the grand piano on the other side of the room (the Zabini's had schooled their son on not just that, but the cello as well, of which he had a rich model tucked away somewhere). He pulled the piano bench over, sat, and waited quietly for Pansy to collect herself.

She sniffed again, rubbing at her face. Tear tracks had marked up her cheeks and her eyes were rimmed in red. How long had she been crying like this?

"I'm sorry," she said finally. She buried her face into Blaise's shoulder.

"What? Why should _you_ be sorry?" he asked, trying to crane his head away and get a better look at her.

"I - ruined - _everything_ ," Pansy said, pausing to keep herself together. Draco thought she might burst into sobs again at any moment, and it looked like it took a great deal of effort not to. "Cormac - he -"

"McLaggen?" Draco interrupted. Anger rose in his chest.

She just nodded. "I thought - I thought if I let him - then he might want to stay…"

Blaise shot Draco a _very_ intense look.

"You let him what?" he asked, his fury restrained into that trademark coolness.

But in response, Pansy just grasped Blaise's shirt tighter. All the composure she'd regained was lost in that moment.

"No one will want me now!" she wailed, before dissolving into a fit of bawling cries. It seemed she couldn't even hold herself up anymore; she sank into Blaise before throwing her arms over her head protectively, sprawling across his lap in a shuddering, whimpering heap.

Blaise rubbed her back consolingly, but the look he shared with Draco was nothing short of dangerous. If Cormac McLaggen had been in the room at that moment, Draco would honestly fear for the bastard's life.

In all his fifteen years, Draco had never seen a person so utterly destroyed. Though he knew he should feel sadness right now, he couldn't - instead, it was only a deep, building rage. This was the girl he'd known since he was eleven. They'd shared all their classes, studied for exams together, owled each other every week during the holidays. Pansy Parkinson had never, _ever_ , in all that time, let something affect her so terribly. Even when she'd fancied Draco in the past, his rejection had caused no more than some uncertainty and possibly a few tears.

Oh Merlin, he _hoped_ it hadn't been more than that. If he'd ever made her break down like this, he didn't think he could forgive himself. It was different, though... Wasn't it? They hadn't gotten close, and only shared a few sloppy kisses in their third year, and danced a bit the year after that. He hadn't - well -

 _Didn't fucking touch her_ , he thought possessively. At least, not _once_ with intentions that weren't entirely innocent.

He lowered his face into his hands. He wanted to ring McLaggen by the neck, and give him a thorough pummeling. Who needed a wand when you had two perfectly good fists, anyway?

After a while, Pansy's cries slowed, until eventually she was just hiccoughing occasionally. Blaise had to pry her arms away from that shield they'd made over her face, still trying to hide. He looked her in the eye and explained that she wasn't worthless, and that this didn't mean she was spoiled for someone else. Pansy took in his words with big, scared eyes - too afraid to be hopeful, Draco supposed.

Draco called in a house-elf to make them up some tea and biscuits, and within minutes they had all moved to sit on the bed, steaming mugs in their hands. Pansy nibbled at a cookie while explaining that, while she'd sent McLaggen a very well-thought-out gift of dragonhide keeper gloves (he was hoping to take over the position once Oliver Wood graduated) she'd only received from him a plain card. In it he'd said that he thought they would be better off as friends. He hadn't mentioned the fact that the last time he'd seen her, it was the morning after they'd slept together. He'd ended the note with a simple "Happy Christmas."

"He's _dead_ ," Draco said, snapping the head off of a gingerbread man.

"Maybe he'll have an unfortunate fall," Blaise said, "Down seven or eight flights of stairs..."

"He might get _very_ clumsy," Draco agreed. "Probably will set himself on fire a few times."

"Or have a run-in with a dragon."

"Speaking of, just where might one find a dragon around here?"

Pansy said not to bother with him, but after a few rounds of Draco and Blaise going back and forth on various ways to torture her ex, her pleas got less and less convincing. Soon she was stirring her tea idly and smirking while she said "oh no, don't..." rather tonelessly. Blaise had suggested dragging McLaggen out to the Forbidden Forest and letting him get lost in it for an evening. To Draco, that sounded like great fun.

She still wasn't herself, not quite, but the boys did get her spirits up after a while. When Draco thanked her for the sweets, she beamed back at him, and started gushing about what she'd buy at Madam Malkin's with the gift card he'd given her. Of course, the gift card wasn't the important part; in his letter, Draco had offered to shop with her. He knew he'd regret it later, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea.

The three spent most of the afternoon together before Pansy admitted that her parents were probably worried sick - they'd just seen their daughter open a card, burst into tears, and flee into their parlor to use the floo - and that she should probably get back to them. Draco thought it was best that he get home, as well. Pansy gave each of her boys a long hug and a peck on the cheek before leaving.

As soon as she was out, Blaise turned to Draco.

"Seriously. Where can we get a dragon?"

…

The rest of the break went by relatively uneventfully, and soon Draco and his friends were bound for Hogwarts once again. When he saw Pansy on the train, the first time he'd seen her since Christmas, she turned red in the face and started spouting apologies. Draco wouldn't hear any of it, and told her firmly that she had nothing to be sorry about. Someone else on the train had already reserved that responsibility.

As much as they wanted to curse McLaggen upon first sight, Draco and Blaise managed to make it through the long ride without acting on that impulse. Partially it was because Pansy was visibly nervous the entire way. Every time someone knocked on the door to their compartment, she flinched, completely unprepared to face her ex again.

"Quibbler?" came the airy voice of Luna Lovegood. She'd knocked lightly and pulled the door open just a touch to peek inside.

Draco was about to decline when Blaise, sitting by the window, held out his hand impassively. He didn't look away from the sights outside.

Luna placed a copy in Blaise's hand with a polite smile, closing the door to continue on her way.

Blaise tossed the zany magazine onto the seat next to him, still looking bored out of his mind. When he realized that Draco and Pansy had fixed him with rather scandalized looks, he rolled his eyes.

"What, you're not curious? She's always towing those about, and besides, I doubt anyone _else_ takes them." Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. It's not like I suddenly believe in nar-gulfs, or any of that rubbish."

Pansy shrugged, and she and Draco continued their chat. They would be getting new patrolling schedules from Humphries and Clearwater, and had been wondering at what kind of surprises they could expect this term. Not to mention their Inquisitorial Squad duties, which seemed more daunting than ever. Umbridge would be disappointed to hear that no progress had been made in figuring out Dumbledore's Army, especially since, knowing that Potter didn't have much of a home to go to over the holiday, he'd probably continued with their meetings.

"I bet you could get something out of Granger," Pansy said off-handedly. "Merlin knows you get under her skin. I bet she fancies you."

She'd been busily examining her manicure, and so she missed the look that passed between her two friends. Blaise had been suspicious of Draco and Hermione from the beginning, but Pansy hadn't thought into it very much. While it was an innocent enough comment to make, the way Blaise smirked at him made Draco's face color. He quickly changed the subject.

…

"Quick, there he goes," Draco hissed.

Blaise, who was stalking silently through the shadows, tiptoed around a corner and put up a hand to halt. He and Draco were slinking through the corridors past curfew, following Cormac McLaggen as he headed toward the Gryffindor common room. They'd tailed him since earlier that evening when he'd led a bashful Ravenclaw into a broom cupboard, and they were now finally ready to strike.

Draco inched up to Blaise's side. McLaggen was dead-center in the corridor, paying no attention whatsoever, and that made him an easy target. Draco raised his wand, as did Blaise, planning to hex him with a combination of bat-bogey hex and the jellylegs jinx.

The sound of footsteps even farther down made all three boys freeze. McLaggen whirled about, trying to find a good place to hide. When he saw the two Slytherins, a look of terror crossed his face.

"C'mon," Blaise said, pulling on Draco's elbow. "It won't do us any good to land me in detention with him."

Draco, however, had an idea. Abandoning the hex he'd planned on using, he instead swirled his wand in a pattern they'd learned from McGonagall last year - while she certainly hadn't intended it to be used like this, if one only got a bit creative...

Cormac McLaggen stiffened immediately, looking down at his robes. His clothing quickly shrank away, all pulling into itself until he was nearly stark-naked, aside from a pair of bright pink, very lacy knickers.

Draco gave him a wink before running in the opposite direction with Blaise. They had just made it around the corner when they heard a loud gasp.

" _Mr. McLaggen!_ " It was none other than Minerva McGonagall herself. And she sounded _highly_ offended. "What in _Merlin's name_ do you think you're doing?"

Blaise grinned broadly at Draco, and they shared a quiet high-five. McGonagall was shouting about public indecency and promising enough detentions to last through the end of the year. Feeling accomplished, they set out for the common room.

This wasn't the first time that Cormac McLaggen had suffered at the hand of either Draco or Blaise or both. In the weeks following Christmas break, McLaggen had found himself hexed, tripped, sworn at, threatened, and even punched in the face - only once, when Draco hadn't been fast enough to stop his friend from lashing out. The pair didn't plan to do any major damage, but to settle in for a long and drawn-out process that would ensure constant paranoia and misery throughout the rest of McLaggen's time at Hogwarts. And so far, they had been _quite_ successful at it.

"Still going to try Granger tonight?" Blaise asked quietly.

Draco sighed. "I have to _sometime_."

After Pansy's suggestion had opened up the possibility, Draco didn't feel like he needed to be so secretive about seeking Hermione out. He'd been itching to try, and every time she passed him in the corridor only to pretend he didn't exist, that itch had intensified. Even if she wouldn't give up anything on Dumbledore's Army, he still needed to see her. He hoped it would be worth it.

"Well, good luck," Blaise said, aiming a genuine smile Draco's way. "And watch your back, with that one. She's a bit touchy."

Draco smiled back, but when he turned to head off in another direction, his face fell into a nervous frown. He tugged on his collar, then pulled off his tie entirely and stuffed it into his pocket.

He figured his best bet would be to wait near the Gryffindor common room, so he made his way up the moving staircases - narrowly avoiding the missing step - and was soon leaning against the wall beside the Fat Lady. She glared at him, muttering something about loitering.

Minutes ticked by, and Draco only got more and more nervous. After a while, he slid to sit on the floor, tapping his foot impatiently. At some point he began to wonder if he'd been too late, but then he saw light coming around a bend in the corridor.

Hermione rounded the wall and jumped with a yelp at the sight of another person in her path.

Draco stood, straightening his shirt as he did so.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, annoyed.

"I need to talk to you." He combed a hand through his hair. She looked nice - no robes, and no school uniform, but just simple blue jeans and a dark sweater.

"I don't have time for this," she replied, turning to the Fat Lady. She opened her mouth haughtily, then paused, and shut it with a snap. She glared at Draco. "Do you _mind?_ "

"Think I'll be invading the Gryffin-den, do you?" he said, smirking. He crossed his arms leisurely, making it clear that he wasn't going to move. "Better be careful, or else you'll find me in your common room, _fraternizing_ with your idiot friends."

She scowled, and pointed her wand at him. The warm light made her face glow.

" _Move_ , Malfoy."

He dropped his arms. "Look, I just need to _talk_ -"

"I'm not interested!" Hermione hissed angrily. "Funny, remember when _I_ wanted to talk, and you decided to ignore me for a few months instead?"

Draco wanted to argue, but cringed. She had a point. But he had to find a way to convince her. He _had_ to.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I was being a prat, okay? A right tosser. Now will you _please_ stop aiming that thing at me?"

Hermione's frown deepened, and she worried her lip. Thinking carefully, she dropped her arm.

Draco let out a breath of relief. "Thanks."

She made a noncommittal sound in return, folding her arms over her breasts. That angry glint in her stare remained.

"I - er, can we go somewhere more… private?" Draco asked.

Hermione surveyed him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed. Whatever her answer, it was clear that she wouldn't be letting her guard down. She didn't say anything in return, but merely stepped slowly to the side and began walking down the corridor, leaving Draco behind. He hurried to follow.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," Hermione said under her breath. She gave Draco a sidelong, appraising glance, and then looked back to the floor.

They reached a classroom a few corridors down, and Hermione locked the door after them, glancing quickly up and down the hall first in case they'd been seen.

" _So_ ," she said, whirling around to face Draco, "What's it this time? More about Dumbledore's Army?"

He nodded, hands in his pockets.

"When will you _learn_ ," Hermione sighed. "I am _not_ selling them out. I couldn't even if I wanted to, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, his attention piqued.

"Oh - er -" she looked a bit frustrated with herself. "I shouldn't have said that."

"What do you _mean_ , Hermione?" Draco asked again. Her gaze shot up to meet his.

He felt the urge to walk toward her, and to pick up where they'd left off the last time they'd escaped to an empty classroom, but he didn't let himself. It was amazing that he'd managed to get her here at _all_. There was no need to push his luck. But still… The urge remained.

"Well, I don't suppose it changes much if you know…" She was clearly conflicted, but finally gave in. "This isn't some slipshod club that we slapped together. It's highly organized. And we have a system of… Well, keeping people in _check_ , I guess you could say."

"Explain."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the command, but the corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"We signed a contract. There were certain parameters in place, so that anyone who signed is sworn to secrecy." Here, she blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Anyone who gives us away will find themselves _very_ uncomfortable, and we'll know immediately who it is."

"And that was your doing," Draco stated. "You're the only one smart enough to pull that off."

Hermione looked sheepish at the compliment. Slowly, her stance and body language was loosening, getting more comfortable. Draco noticed as much, very satisfied with that progress.

"Does she know anything?" Hermione asked.

"Just that it's all Potter's idea," Draco answered. He probably wasn't supposed to give anything away, but he didn't care much. "She suspects Dumbledore put him up to it. And, of course, she suspects you and Weasley are in it as well."

"Why hasn't she called us out, then?"

"She wants everyone," Draco said simply. "She hates that students are undermining her stupid rules, and she doesn't want anyone getting away with it."

Hermione shook her head, sighing. "Here's where you lose me, Draco. I get that you need info, but it's _you_ giving _me_ a heads-up that makes me nervous. I just don't understand."

"Maybe you don't need to understand everything," he said.

The fell into silence after that. Draco wasn't looking in her direction, not sure how to respond properly to Hermione's curiosity. He wasn't sure how much he wanted her to know. Hermione, on the other hand, inspected him carefully.

"Is that all you needed?" she asked. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to tell you anything else. You know I can't."

Draco looked up at her, his silvery-blue eyes disappointed. He'd been fidgeting with his shirt, and realized how bashful and immature that might look; he rolled up his sleeves, taking his time so his hands would remain occupied for a while. He was getting anxious again.

"All I needed, yeah," he said, finally. "But I still wish you'd let it go. I meant it when I said that things would get bad when Umbridge catches you."

 _Why is she looking at me like that?_ Draco wondered. _Am I crazy, or does she look happy?_

"I'm not dropping the D.A., Draco," Hermione said softly, "But it's sweet of you to try."

He shuffled his feet, not wanting her to leave just yet, and blurted out, "What do muggles do for Christmas?"

Hermione seemed quite surprised. She smiled. "Probably about the same as any wizarding family. It's the same tradition, you know. We do gifts and stockings."

"Ah," Draco said lamely, face turning red. "Nice..."

"Do you remember the night at the Astronomy Tower?" she asked suddenly, now _really_ catching Draco's attention.

"Well _yeah_ ," he said. "How could I forget?"

"You - well…" Hermione thought hard at how to go about this. Whatever it was, Draco was very curious. "You weren't… Unhappy… About it, were you?"

"Why would I be unhappy?" Draco asked earnestly. He'd stepped toward her without realizing it.

"Because I'm a muggle-born."

Hermione leaned back against the wall and fixed her bright eyes on Draco, analyzing his reaction. He recognized something in her expression and tried to place where he'd seen that look before -

 _Pansy_ , he realized. It was that same confused mix of uncertainty and hope, while bracing oneself for disappointment.

That connection tugged at him with a fresh wave of concern. It made him wonder how he'd react if he ever knew Hermione was hurt like that - and instead of that tumultuous ire that he'd felt when comforting Pansy on Christmas, a kind of fury toward the guy who hurt her, something entirely different swept through him. Fear.

He shook his head, slowly at first.

"That doesn't matter," he said firmly. "And no, I wasn't unhappy. Maybe next time we can wake up somewhere more comfortable, though." He nearly clapped a hand over his mouth once the words were out, but it was too late. To his surprise, she didn't seem affronted.

"I think that's a good idea," Hermione replied, voice soft.

If he wasn't mistaken, there was more than just hope in her gaze now; there was a kind of invitation, a softness that welcomed Draco's presence. He stepped toward her cautiously. Hermione didn't say anything, and didn't turn away. Draco's heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else, and he placed a hand on the wall beside her head to steady himself. She tilted her face up toward him, breathing a little more shallowly than just before.

Draco reached up his other hand to touch her face. He trembled, but she didn't see, because she closed her eyes when she felt his thumb gliding lightly over her cheekbone. He gently, as carefully as if she were made of glass, kissed her.

It wasn't a passionate, needy kiss like they'd shared in the library; while Draco wanted nothing more than to bury his face in her neck and let his hands roam over her body, it wasn't the time. Now was the time to prove something, to give her something worthy of her attention. So he kissed her slowly, very faintly pressing her back against the wall. When he broke away a moment later, it was to the sight of wide eyes and a thoroughly breathless Hermione Granger.

He leaned forward, brushing his cheek barely against the side of her face. She shivered.

"I need you to be careful, Hermione," he said softly. "I need you to promise me."

Draco could feel her nodding. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, really wishing that he could do more in this moment.

But it wasn't the time.

Not speaking, he pulled away. He led her back to Gryffindor Tower without another word, aware that she stared at him openly the entire way. When she turned to say good night, Draco merely pressed a light kiss to her forehead, gave her a knowing look, and walked away.

He wouldn't be the only one having interesting dreams that night.

* * *

 **A/N:** You guys requested more Dramione, so I tried to deliver. Hope you enjoyed it!

So regardless of how well or poorly it reads, when I write, I really dive into the characters... So writing the bit about Pansy nearly had me crying last night. I'm also hormonal, so there's that too. Looking back, my worry is that Blaise and Draco reacted really furiously at first, but when it jumps forward to how they're actually harassing Cormac, it might come across as kind of just pestering him. I like to think that while Pansy calmed down and they discussed various "torture" methods, they got sillier and less serious as they went. Of course they still hated him, but they wouldn't be casting an Unforgivable at the sight of him. How did I do?

Also, to address a bit of worry from one of your reviews on this chapter: the "such is the duty of wifehood" comment wasn't Draco's opinion (or mine) on the subject, it was Narcissa's. That woman has devoted herself entirely to being the model wife and mother. I know it seems archaic, but that's what we're going with.

I also thought that the next big Dramione moment needed to be something heavier than just mindless snogging - though let's face it, everybody enjoys some of that - and that's how the chapter end came about. What are your thoughts on it? Did that seem like it made sense, and wasn't OOC for anybody? I don't want them to be so starkly hot/cold that they seem two-dimensional.

So I have big plans for the next chapter - and yes, it will have to do with the Department of Mysteries incident. Not only will that be paramount for our pair, but Blaise as well, and then next year we'll get to watch as Draco fumes about Cormac setting his sights on Hermione. I'm looking forward to it. :)

Wonderful reviews, all of you! And I've received some PM's with predictions on how a few key things will play out, which I love! don't be afraid to take guesses.

Thanks all,

PennyDreddful


	15. Dumbledore's Army Caught

**Chapter Fourteen: Dumbledore's Army Caught**

 _Draco walked down a long, dark corridor, his wand lit softly, a spare set of robes tucked under his arm. It was late at night, and he hadn't been able to sleep; he shouldn't be interrupted at this hour, and had decided to take advantage of the luxurious Prefects' bath. He approached the statue of Boris the Bewildered and said the password to enter._

 _A door tucked behind the statue swung open easily. Warm light emanated from inside the room, which was thick with steam and many light, sweet aromas._

 _He shut the door behind him._

 _"I didn't think I'd run into you here," said that lovely, familiar voice._

 _Wrapped in a thin robe and bent over a tap on the other side of the pool, Hermione looked up at Draco, her mane of hair draped over one shoulder. She straightened, and steam swirled around her bare ankles from the hot water in the bath. It was nearly full._

 _Draco smirked at her, unperturbed. He dropped his extra clothes on a bench and strode to the wall for a towel. Hermione watched him nervously. She cleared her throat._

 _"Do you mind?" she asked, tugging on her robe. The cotton fabric tightened against her skin._

 _"Not at all," Draco replied easily. He started at the buttons of his shirt, raising an eyebrow at the wide-eyed stare coming from Hermione. She watched as the final button popped undone and he shrugged off his shirt, revealing a lean, toned upper-body. She licked her lips subconsciously._

 _When he set upon the zipper of his pants, however, she blushed furiously and spun around._

 _"You shouldn't be here," she said._

 _"And why's that?" he countered. He sounded closer. Hermione felt his hands on her small shoulders, then he whispered into her ear. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"_

 _Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, and she let her head fall back. Draco stood behind her, smirking into her neck. He began placing a series of slow, heavy kisses along her jaw, and his fingers slipped under the neckline of her robe. He carefully brushed the fabric away from her shoulders, wrapping his bare arms around her, pressing into her from behind -_

Hermione sat up in bed, heart pounding, her hair sticking to her face with sweat. That dream...

She looked around quickly, but saw that no one in her dorm was awake. Grasping the curtain of her four-poster, she yanked it closed for privacy, then fell back into her pillows.

Her whole body buzzed, and her skin was hot to the touch. She'd had other dreams like that before, but this time, it was so _real_. Probably because she could still feel Draco's touch, his sensual kisses from that night. Weeks had passed since then, but it hadn't been enough time to forget, and Hermione could tell that during the long wait, her dreams had only gotten needier.

 _Ugh. What am I going to do about him?_

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. Pressure had built up inside her. She didn't want that buzzing to stop.

She conjured up images in her head and let her imagination take over where her dream had ended. Stifling a moan, she reveled in the excitement of it - she never did this, it had always seemed so taboo - and slid a hand under her blanket. Maybe somewhere out there, Draco was enjoying the same kind of pleasure at Hermione's expense. A fresh wave of excitement overtook her at the thought.

...

"Again."

Snape brandished his wand at Draco, his eyebrow raised almost unnoticeably. He flicked his wrist.

Draco felt Snape dive into his memories, snaking around and sifting through whatever he wanted. They passed over everything recent and slithered toward Draco's younger years at Hogwarts.

He was in third year, and Buckbeak was looming over him, reared up on his hind legs. The great beast shrieked and swiped his knife-like claws, which ripped open Draco's arm with a frenzy of pain.

Now it was his first year, and he walked triumphantly toward the Slytherin table from the front of the Great Hall. He'd just been sorted. His heart swelled at seeing all of these smiling faces.

The summer of third year, saying goodbye to his Aunt Bella and his uncle as they left the Malfoy Manor. They each carried only a small bag of things, but he'd known they'd be alright. And we was glad to see them leave.

Last year. He was pressed against the wall of a broom cupboard, and Daphne had a hand clutching his tie. She kissed him amorously, pressing herself into him, reaching her other hand up to grasp a fistful of Draco's hair. She tugged on it, hard, and Draco moaned.

 _No. You're not allowed._

Somewhere within this memory, Draco could sense Snape's presence. It was like learning he could use a new muscle in his body, one he didn't even know had existed until just now. He mentally shoved against Snape - it did nothing, and Draco's head exploded in pain...

Falling to the ground, Draco came out of his mind at the same time that Snape did. He wanted desperately to let himself collapse onto the cold flagstone, and his arms barely had the strength to hold himself up. Mustering all the determination he could, Draco forced himself to stand, using the edge of Snape's desk at a crutch.

" _Again_ ," he wheezed, looking his professor dead in the eye.

Snape didn't move, however. He crossed his arms over his chest, wand still in hand. He was inwardly impressed by Draco's perseverance tonight - that was the third time in a row in which Draco had demanded to continue, not himself - but he refused to show it.

"That is enough for one evening," Snape drawled.

"What?" Draco spat, totally exasperated. "I only _just_ \- just now, I -"

"You've made considerable progress tonight," Snape agreed. "Now, your mind needs to rest. You are excused."

Draco scowled, but physically at least, he was thankful. He didn't want to risk losing that shred of advancement he'd just earned, but his professor did have a point. That pounding in his head had only increased.

He started to nod, then stopped himself, clutching his forehead with a wince.

"Thanks professor," he said, then turned to leave.

"And Draco..."

Still rubbing at his face, the young blond looked back at his professor, who was already seated at his desk and opening a thick book.

"I see you haven't made any recent attempts to contact... Your _friend_. It would be wise of you to keep it that way."

Draco didn't say anything in return, but just slumped out of the room and into the corridor.

Snape was right, at least in part. The last time Draco had spoken to Hermione was weeks ago, unfortunately. He caught her looking in his direction sometimes during class, and while he didn't dare smile (not while surrounded by all of their friends) he did his best to hang on to that little contact. Hermione must have sensed something was different, or perhaps she herself felt differently toward him now; her gaze softened just-so whenever it landed on Draco.

He'd thought very hard about sending her something recently, but had eventually decided against it. Valentine's Day had come and gone, and while the temptation to send Hermione some small gift, anonymously of course, had been great, well... Draco couldn't bring himself to do it. It had made him feel marginally better to see that she didn't receive anything extravagant via owl that day. More than that, it had felt spectacular when, just for a moment, she'd looked up from her lunch to see what he'd received as well. Of course, he'd gotten a large parcel from his mother, not that Hermione knew who'd sent it. She'd stared at it with narrowed eyes all through the rest of the meal.

Draco shrugged his robe back on and made his way toward the common room. Thankfully he had no homework, so he could afford to collapse onto his bed and pass out first-thing.

Upon entering the common room, his plans changed.

Despite the late hour, Draco entered and found that the entire Inquisitorial Squad had assembled. Most were in their pajamas, but they looked very thoroughly awake. Pansy, the only one still wearing her day clothes, puffed out her chest proudly.

"She's done it, finally," said Gregory.

"Done what?" Draco asked cautiously.

Pansy simply beamed. "Marietta Edgecomb."

The name brought up a giant question mark in Draco's head. He'd never met the girl before. She was a student here, right?

"Sorry?" he said.

At this, Pansy huffed impatiently. "Edgecomb is a part of Dumbledore's Army. And she wants out."

"It's our ticket with Umbridge," chimed in Warrington.

"She's agreed to give up the group?" Draco asked. Now he _really_ wanted to collapse. He looked over at Blaise, the only other person in the room who would understand what had Draco so worried, except Blaise was only staring blankly at the fire. It gave Draco pause, but he was quickly dragged back to reality.

"Everyone," Pansy said. She pulled a piece of parchment off of Montague's lap, where he'd previously been giving it a look-over, and brandished it toward Draco. "We've got the whole list right here."

Draco swallowed. He read off the names in his head.

 _Harry Potter_

 _Ron Weasley_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Ginny Weasley_

 _Luna Lovegood_

 _Neville Longbottom_

 _Katie Bell_

 _Fred Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _Lavender Brown_

 _Cho Chang_

 _Marietta Edgecomb_

 _Susan Bones_

 _Terry Boot_

 _Hannah Abbott_

 _Romilda Vane_

 _Nigel Wolpert_

 _Dean Thomas_

 _Seamus Finnegan_

 _Alicia Spinnet_

 _Alice Tolipan_

 _Maisy Reynolds_

 _Ernie Macmillan_

 _Cormac McLaggen_

 _Rionach O'Neal_

 _Padma Patil_

 _Parvati Patil_

 _Lee Jordan_

 _Angelina Johnson_

 _Anthony Goldstein_

 _Justin Finch-Fletchley_

 _Colin Creevey_

 _Dennis Creevey_

 _Luca Caruso_

 _Michael Corner_

Draco re-read the list of names. Then he counted them.

"Bloody hell," he said under his breath. "This is over thirty people. How in Merlin's name did Potter convince so many?"

Pansy shrugged. "Who knows? The point is that we _finally_ have something for Umbridge. Do you think we'll get a reward?"

Fear began trickling in. Draco wondered if there was a way for him to postpone this discovery - maybe he could perform memory charms on the entire Inquisitorial Squad, and then burn this damned list...

Realizing how idiotic that sounded, Draco rubbed at his face. There wasn't a way out of this, was there?

"I suppose we should bring the list to Umbridge, then," he said.

"Oh no, we've done better already," Pansy replied.

"What?" Draco asked, sounding as alarmed as he felt. "What did you do?"

Pansy shrank back a bit. A moment later she tilted her head at him; Draco was back to rubbing at his eyes, which had dark, haggard circles under them.

"Rough lesson tonight?" She asked quietly. When Draco didn't respond, she cleared her throat. "Er - Edgecomb is with Umbridge now, actually. We didn't want to interrupt your meeting, but thought she wouldn't want to wait. I expect that by tomorrow afternoon, Umbridge will have rounded up the whole lot."

"You should get some sleep," said Blaise suddenly. He hadn't looked away from the fire. "You'll need it for tomorrow."

The others didn't question this suggestion - they were all tired as well - and they rose as one, stretched, and shuffled off into their respective dormitories. Only Pansy and Blaise stayed behind.

"Are you alright?" Pansy asked, looking not just at Draco, but at Blaise as well.

"Fine," Draco answered. "Just... Like you said. It was a difficult lesson."

Pansy nodded, though she didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Well... Alright, then," she said. "See you tomorrow." She spared one last glance at Blaise before turning to leave for her dormitory as well.

Draco waited until she was well out of sight before speaking. He looked Blaise carefully up and down. The boy didn't look distraught, necessarily, and his natural demeanor was always very cool, but Draco knew something wasn't right.

"Blaise?"

"You go on," Blaise said quietly. "I'll be in soon. Just nervous about exams, that's all."

It wasn't even a little true, and Draco could tell as much easily. He considered trying again, but thought better of it. Blaise would tell him what it was eventually.

...

 _April 19_

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts - cancelled_

Draco stared at the parchment on the classroom door, trying not to let his worry show. Professor Umbridge had never, _ever_ cancelled class before. Really, _no_ professors liked to cancel their lectures. It was practically unheard of.

"She's pulled them all out of class already," Blaise said, his voice low. Behind them, the other Slytherins were giving excited cheers and whoops before heading off to enjoy the spring weather. Any Gryffindors who hadn't been involved in Dumbledore's Army, of which there were only a handful, merely slunk away quietly.

"What's she doing with them?" Draco asked.

"Detention, of course." Blaise looked away, frowning. "I reckon that'll last through dinner and well into tonight."

Detention? Draco shuddered. He didn't like to think what Umbridge would come up with. Rumors had spread that her idea of punishment typically left scars, but he couldn't believe that. It was too vile. And besides, that would surely break some kind of law, wouldn't it?

"Guys!"

They turned to see Pansy skipping toward them. She grasped their arms and began hauling them down the corridor.

"It's the _Ministry!_ " She hissed. "They've come for Dumbledore!"

Now very curious, Draco found his footing and trotted by Pansy's side. They made their way to the entrance hall, where they would hopefully witness whatever was about to take place. Others had already gathered.

"You think they'll sack him?" asked Blaise.

"One can only hope," muttered Draco sourly. It would be a small consolation for whatever punishment Hermione was undergoing in the man's name.

 _And Merlin knows the old codger is losing it_ , he thought.

They waited, and waited, but nothing happened. Students of all houses, but mostly older ones with a free period to spare, milled about the corridor. Some paced with worry, and others just looked like they were about to witness the next piece of juicy gossip. Draco wondered where Rita Skeeter was. This kind of thing was exactly her M.O. anyway.

A hush fell over the entrance hall. Draco straightened.

Several smartly-dressed wizards strolled through, though to Draco's great interest, Dumbledore was not among them.

"... You must admit, Dumbledore's got _style_ ," said one of them. The gentleman he was speaking to only shot him an annoyed glare in response.

Blaise looked just as confused as Draco felt.

"Well where is he?" Pansy hissed.

"Not to worry! Get on back to your common rooms, all of you!"

Amid the normal-sized wizards, Draco hadn't seen the squat Professor Umbridge bustling up behind them. When she squeezed through, however, her loud pink ensemble made her impossible to miss. She clapped her hands, her face red with frustration.

"Get _out!_ " she finally snapped. Students hopped up and fled the hall, while the Ministry officials left through the front door of the castle. Umbridge saw Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, and she headed straight for them.

"Hello professor," Draco greeted blandly.

"Ah, yes. Excellent work, all of you," Umbridge said. "Unfortunately, not _all_ has gone according to plan... That old Headmaster of yours is as good as a wanted fugitive. I doubt he'll make a reappearance, but do keep your guard up." She gave them each a hard stare in turn. "And Ms. Parkinson, very nicely done yesterday."

Pansy smiled happily.

"What will happen to them?" Blaise asked. "The Dumbledore's Army members. Surely they won't all be expelled?"

Umbridge tutted sadly. "Oh no, Mr. Zabini. We can't fault the young, their leader was quite pursuasive, after all... But measures have been taken to ensure they won't stray again." She finished with a sickening giggle.

"What measures?" Draco asked, not stopping himself.

"Don't you worry about that," Umbridge answered. Her expression grew a bit suspicious. "Now, off with you. Go have yourselves a good rest and take advantage of that lovely weather."

Draco knew that wouldn't be possible to do.

The three friends made their way to the common room together, where Pansy then broke away to visit with Theo Nott, a fellow fifth year. Blaise and Draco went immediately to their dormitory, which was empty. Draco slumped onto his bed, wringing his hands together, while Blaise set to pacing back and forth.

"You know what they say she does?" Blaise asked, staring at the floor. "They say she has you write lines. Except - the quill she gives you, it's not a normal quill."

"I've heard." Draco looked as grim as he felt. "You don't suppose it's true, then?"

"I don't know."

Draco watched as his friend walked long, straight lines across the floor, shaking his head the whole way. In all honesty, Blaise was acting as anxious as Draco felt. It made Draco wonder.

"What's going on with you?" Draco asked. "I've never seen you this worked up before."

Blaise slowed. He sat down on his bed, which was across from Draco's, and for a few minutes he looked at his hands.

"It's nothing," he said. When Draco merely stared, nonplussed, in return, he cleared his throat. "I mean, sure, there is _something_. It's just not important. And that probably won't change." He sighed tiredly. "Can we talk about this later?"

Draco didn't agree, not really, but the conversation ended anyway.

...

Draco didn't see Hermione immediately after her detention, though the next day when he saw her bandaged left hand, he wanted nothing more than to pull her away from her friends and give her a thorough lecture. She'd promised to be careful, and then she'd gone and done exactly what would get her into trouble. His mild dislike for Umbridge had flared into hatred that day.

But, as much as he'd wanted to talk, he didn't. He tried his best to let it go.

Hermione, to her credit, gave a guilty look the next time they made eye-contact across the Great Hall. That was something. It wasn't a conversation, though, and it certainly wasn't a secretive snogging session, either. Draco found himself craving them both.

He and Blaise never did finish that conversation. Draco thought of it again the next week, and the week after that, but never quite got around to bringing it up. Time was once again slipping away. They received more and more homework, and Draco's lessons with Snape increased in length; now, when sufficiently worked-up, Draco could almost shove his professor out of his mind entirely. It was progress.

And then, practically out of the blue, they were slapped with O.W.L.s.

Draco, Blaise, and Pansy spent most afternoons studying by the greenhouses, and eventually Theo Nott joined their little gathering as well. Pansy seemed to fancy the bloke, and he was quite a step up from Cormac McLaggen (who Draco and Blaise still tripped and jinxed on regular occasion) and they all liked him well enough. They were sifting through their Transfiguration reviews when Gregory had approached them.

"Umbridge wants us at her office after our next exam," he said. "Well, just us on the Squad - sorry Nott." The other boy just shrugged.

"Today?" Draco said. "What the hell could she need with us _today?_ We're nearly free."

Gregory gulped. "Potter's up to something, she thinks."

"Potter?" Draco repeated.

"And a few others. I don't know. She's just on edge, and wants us nearby in case something happens."

They looked to each other. Pansy, of course, seemed intrigued more than anything. Draco was surprised to see an expression of worry on Blaise's face, but didn't question it outright.

"I don't suppose we have anything better to do," Pansy replied.

So they tried to concentrate on their studying, but Potter's name kept coming up, along with small guesses as to what had gotten Umbridge all wound up. Before too long they had to leave for the exam hall, where they split up into their individual desks. With McGonagall watching over them like a hawk, Draco couldn't help but feel more nervous than usual. He probably botched the test.

...

"There they are," Pansy hissed. They were all under disillusionment charms, and situated close to the Headmaster's office. Surely enough, a small group of students rounded the corner and walked right up to the gargoyle statue. They were headed by Potter.

Draco's heart pounded in his ears. Umbridge had been convinced that Potter would show up to use the floo, and wanted to catch him in the act - and, in accordance with that suspicion, she'd just been pulled away to handle some kind of "emergency." She'd instructed the Inquisitorial Squad to watch her door.

And now, there was Hermione. She strode beside Potter, with Weasley on his other side, and brushed a stray curl out of her face. Draco thought she looked right at him for a moment.

"You guys keep watch," Harry instructed the few others. Along with the "golden trio," there was Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood. Those three nodded curtly and turned to face the corridor while their leaders slipped into the Headmaster's office.

"Now?" Pansy whispered. Draco put a hand on her shoulder. They were waiting for his command, he realized.

Well, this was it. His opportunity to change something, and make it so Hermione (and her friends, if necessary) would walk away unscathed. Except he couldn't see a way to do that without giving himself up.

He closed his eyes. He sighed. He let Pansy go.

At once Pansy returned to view, and sprang out into the corridor. With a shriek she had Longbottom in a body-bind before he could blink; as the other Squad members jumped into play, also materializing, Ginny Weasley began spouting off curses to hold them off. She and Luna were sorely outnumbered. Within the minute the Squad had it under control. Pansy yanked Longbottom to his feet and Warrington had his wand aimed just under Ginny's chin. Blaise had a hand on Luna's shoulder, and she showed no resistance.

Pansy looked at Draco for permission, once again. He nodded.

They lumbered up the spiral staircase, hostages in tow, and came upon exactly what Umbridge had feared: Harry Potter with his head stuck in the fireplace, apparently communicating with someone on the other side. Hermione already had her wand brandished, and Weasley fumbled for his own.

"I wouldn't do that," Draco warned, keeping his wand trained on the redhead. "It'll only make it worse."

Ron Weasley looked like he'd rather go down swinging than anything else, but Hermione touched his shoulder and, without a word, both of them dropped their wands. Hermione kept a steady gaze on Draco.

 _You shouldn't be here,_ he thought _. You should have listened._

Gregory had plucked away Potter's wand before he could turn to face his attackers, making this a disarmingly easy ambush. By the time Umbridge entered the room, which was just a moment later, everyone had effectively paired up. Draco made his way to the back of the room and stood just behind Hermione; she glanced back at him, but he didn't know what to make of that look.

"Well, _well_ ," Umbridge said quietly, surveying each student in turn. She faced Potter, who had a stupidly defiant look on his face.

Draco didn't hear what she said next - something poked into his side. He saw that it was Hermione's hand. She tugged on the front of his robes.

 _What do you want?_ he thought. He kept his face impassive in case anyone looked.

The tugging increased.

"Well, it's nothing a good _crucio_ couldn't fix."

The tugging stopped.

"You - you _wouldn't!_ " Hermione gasped. "That's an Unforgiveable!"

Umbridge fixed a tight smile onto her face, not breaking eye-contact with Potter.

"Go ahead, then," Potter spat.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but Hermione spoke again.

"No, Harry! We - we have to tell her!"

All eyes in the room landed on Hermione. Draco leaned forward. From that proximity, no one else could see the way she tugged on him.

"Tell me what?" Umbridge demanded.

Hermione's brow furrowed; she looked highly conflicted. When she spoke next, a sharp tug accentuated each of her words.

"Dumbledore's secret weapon," she said quietly. "We - we know where it is." A pause. "It's... it's in the Forbidden Forest."

 _She's lying_.

Draco watched Umbridge drink this in, her face bright with excitement. It made him sick. The woman was just so desperate to prove that the Ministry had pinned Dumbledore correctly. She licked her lips.

"You two," she said, pointing at Potter and, to Draco's great dismay, Hermione, "You come with me." Umbridge looked to Draco. "Keep the rest of them under control. We'll be back soon."

He wanted to grab the back of Hermione's sweater and hold her in place, but he couldn't. It would give them both away. Draco watched, his heart dropping, as Hermione led Umbridge and Potter both out of the office. Then she was gone.

They waited, silent for a short while.

"You know, I had always hoped that she would meet Grawp," said Luna in that infuriatingly airy voice of hers. They all looked at her in confusion.

"What the hell is a Grawp?" Vince asked.

"How do you know about Grawp?" Weasley - the male Weasley - asked. He paled. "You don't think that's what they're doing, do you?"

Luna merely smiled and stared off at a portrait on the wall, seemingly unperturbed.

Draco wanted to shake the girl, and command her to tell them what that was all about, but he never got the chance. Weasley, the girl Weasley this time, had at that moment yanked her elbow upward and connected it firmly with Warrington's nose. The boy cried out and clutched at his face, but it was too late.

Ginny snatched his wand and started firing curses about the room. Gregory doubled over with a flash of red light, and when Pansy tried to hit Ginny with a jelly-legs jinx, she was thrown back by a particularly strong _stupefy_.

They fell into bedlam. Draco, who hadn't been personally watching over anyone, found himself relatively safe and dove under the Headmaster's wide desk. He heard glass shattering and Longbottom shouted "Expelliarmus!" Meanwhile, both Weasleys seemed to be armed again, and were firing curses left and right.

"We've got to get them back!" Ron shouted over the din. Blaise hurled a hex, but Draco didn't hear anyone react to it. " _Sirius_ \- we won't make it - we haven't got long!"

"The thestrals are at the stables," said Luna coolly. "They can get us to the Department of Mysteries. _Stupefy_."

At that, Blaise was flung back onto the floor. He landed beside the desk, and to Draco's great surprise, he was perfectly conscious. It must not have been a strong curse, though Draco wouldn't expect any of Lovegood's curses to be that effective anyway.

"Now!" cried Ginny.

From their place on the floor, neither Draco nor Blaise could see anything. They quickly scrambled to their feet, but by that time, the only ones in the office were those on the Inquisitorial Squad. Their fellow Slytherins groaned on the ground, trying not to roll onto the broken glass that now littered the floor.

Not caring about the others, Blaise whirled and looked hard at Draco.

"The Department of Mysteries?" he said. Draco nodded, his mouth dry. What were they _thinking?_

Draco was about to bring up Weasley's odd comment - surely he didn't mean Sirius Black, did he? But Blaise was gone the very next moment. Draco jumped and sprinted down the staircase, hot on Blaise's heels, and their ran at full-speed through the corridor. If he weren't mistaken, they were heading outside.

* * *

 **A/N** : Are you ready? Because I am so excited for the next chapter. You'll see why.

I'm sorry to skip through so much time, but it was necessary. Even a lot of this chapter was just fodder, which sucks. I tried to keep it interesting for you guys.

Also - Draco is obviously being selfish, expecting Hermione to feel guilty about "breaking her promise" of being careful. I expect he'll look back one day and realize how ridiculous that sounds.

I have big plans for the next chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy them. Please leave a review - reading your feedback over the last few days has been so lovely and inspiring. And yes, _hpfan addict,_ I brought in Theo just for you. :)

Thank you all. You're wonderful.

PennyDreddful


	16. The Department of Mysteries

**Chapter Fifteen: Draco and Blaise in the Department of Mysteries**

As fast as the boys sprinted through the halls, they never caught up with their escaped hostages. Draco and Blaise burst out of the main doors to Hogwarts, where the sun washed the sky in dim pinks and oranges, and Draco stopped to scan the grounds.

"I don't see them," he panted. When he looked up, however, Blaise was gone. Draco spotted him halfway down the sloping lawn already.

 _Why is he running at the bloody quidditch pitch?_

Draco gazed almost longingly in the other direction - if he ran that way now, he might just reach the stables in time to demand answers about this whole "Grawp" business. He followed his friend reluctantly instead.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. Blaise was kicking at the doors to the quidditch shed. "They went _that_ way!"

Blaise must have just remembered that he had a wand, because he stopped kicking at once and stuffed his hand in his pocket.

" _Bombarda!_ " he hissed. The door blew inward, yanked clean off its hinges.

"Blaise!" Draco snapped.

"We won't catch them that way!" Blaise said in return. He stepped inside the rickety shed and pulled out two decent broomsticks; if they had gone to the dungeons, Draco could have gotten them some Nimbus-two-thousand-and-ones, but that was beside the point.

 _Wait. Why are we getting broomsticks?_

"What are you on about?" Draco demanded. The others - Hermione - they were on the other side of the grounds, probably doing something very stupid.

But Blaise just tossed a broom to Draco, who caught it easily.

"We won't catch them that way," Blaise repeated, very calm. His cool brown eyes held a touch of determination. "You heard them, right? They're going to the Ministry. Whatever it is they're doing, we'll miss them if we don't try to head them off."

"We?" Draco asked. "We don't - you don't have to come with me, mate. Umbridge will know you tried."

"It's not just that," Blaise replied. He looked over at the pitch. "I'm going with you. Like I said, they're about to do something stupid. They'll need all the help they can get."

Draco took this in, blinking. He wasn't sure he understood, but appreciated that he wasn't going alone. He looked down at the broom in his hand.

"Flying?" he asked skeptically.

"If we go back to use the floo, the others will follow," Blaise explained.

"Right."

The two stared at each other for a moment, then nodded. Sticking their wands in their pockets and straddling their respective brooms, Draco and Blaise kicked off the ground and into the warm night air.

"Know where we're going?" Draco called.

Blaise nodded again, then leaned forward on his broom and shot off into the clouds.

...

Some time later, they had stashed their brooms in a utility closet and used the public toilets to enter the Ministry of Magic. Now they walked briskly down the main hall, past the great fountain, with their wands raised. Their footsteps echoed in the empty chamber.

Draco led Blaise to a lift - though Blaise's father worked for the Ministry, also, Blaise hadn't really visited before - and they looked uncertainly at one another once the door slid closed.

"If we're wrong, it'll be bad," Blaise said.

"Well we've already flown to London, so I think we're past that," Draco said. He cleared his throat. "The Department of Mysteries, please."

The lift lurched, shuttling first downward, then veering quickly to the right. It even spun around once for good measure before stopping in place, rattling its occupants around quite a bit. Blaise clutched at the wall for support.

 _Ding_.

"Level Nine, Department of Mysteries," said a light, feminine voice. The door sprang open, and Draco stepped cautiously out into a dark corridor.

Blaise was at his side, wand brandished ahead of them. Only then did Draco remember what Weasley had said before, something about Sirius, or at least that's what Draco _thought_ he'd said. Draco shuddered. He really didn't want to run into Sirius Black down here.

"You think they're here already?" Blaise asked. "Who knows how fast thestrals go. Or did we really beat them?"

"I think we beat them, but those really weren't the fastest brooms, either," Draco said. They walked down the corridor, which was long and lined with shadows. It was difficult to see, despite the many torches on the walls; the fire coming off of these glowed blue, which didn't help much.

They approached the door at the end of the corridor. There was only one. Gulping nervously, Draco grasped the handle and opened it. The door opened into a round chamber with inky-black walls. Entering slowly, the boys took in their surroundings, especially the many identical, unlabeled doors circling the room.

"I know it's the Department of Mysteries," Blaise said, "But did they really need to make it so damn _creepy?_ "

Almost to accentuate his question, the door behind them slammed shut. Draco spun to face it, but a strange thing happened - the room moved with him. When he stopped the walls continued spinning, whirring at an incredible speed, before halting in place.

He looked at Blaise, trying not to show how terrified he felt.

"Where..?" he began.

Blaise just shook his head. "I guess we better start trying them."

Draco nodded feebly. He followed his friend to the nearest door, but they had to pause. It had no handle. None of them did.

 _Bloody Unspeakables and their bloody imaginations,_ Draco fumed. But Blaise tapped his wand on the door, muttering under his breath, and it popped open.

Blaise led the way this time.

This room looked somewhat like the courtrooms on the upper levels, Draco thought, but significantly more eerie. It too was empty, which accentuated the barren and deathly quality it gave off. They stood at the back of the antechamber, and the ground sloped downward, where in the center a great dais rose up. On the dais floated a stone archway with a long, dark curtain hanging from it.

Draco's skin prickled. He didn't like it there. Blaise must've agreed, because he tugged sharply on Draco's sleeve. "Let's go, they're not here. And this place... It's no good."

They retreated quickly, and even the disorientation from having the doored room spin about couldn't match the unease Draco felt. He thought he could go a lifetime without seeing that veil again, not that he knew why.

Once more, he and Blaise stared at twelve blank doors.

"There has to be a better way to do this," Draco said, wracking his brain.

"Wait - do you hear that?"

Blaise strode over to a door and pressed his ear against it.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Blaise answered. He frowned. "Should we try it?"

Draco just shrugged. He was trying to think of a good spell to use to mark the door when Blaise opened it and stepped inside. Draco quickly followed.

This room was equally mysterious, though not quite as scary as the other, Draco thought. The moment he set foot inside he felt himself lift off the ground a bit; by the way Blaise gasped, Draco thought that his friend had felt it too. Aside from the open door, this place was nearly pitch-black, and strange little orbs floated around them.

 _It's like we're in space_ , he thought, utterly amazed.

It was easy to get distracted from the task at hand, and Draco and Blaise did just that. They stepped curiously around the room, lifting up off the ground each time, and ran their fingertips over the surfaces of various planets.

The door slammed shut with a _bang_.

"What was that?" Blaise asked, swinging his wand around.

Draco had his wand trained on the door, too. If he weren't mistaken, they had company. He glided carefully back to the door and pressed his ear against it, which did nothing but chill the side of his face. He frowned at it.

"I think they're out there," he said quietly. He glanced at Blaise. "We won't stand a chance against them. We're outnumbered."

Blaise nodded, his brow furrowed. "So we don't go for them all at once. Maybe... Maybe we should just follow, for now. If you can get to Hermione... Will she listen to you?"

An ugly snort escaped from Draco's mouth. "She hasn't so far, don't know why she'd start _now_."

This, however, didn't help the situation. He sighed.

"It's the best plan we've got then, isn't it?"

They opened the door and crept out of the space-room. As soon as the walls stopped spinning it became obvious that another group had been through; several glowing red X's marked a few of the doors. Draco thought hard, pointing his wand first at one X, then at another.

 _What are you looking for?_ He thought.

"Look," Blaise said, pointing at one X in particular. "It's the newest. The others are fading."

And Blaise was right. Draco approached the door with him, still not quite sure what they intended to do.

Blaise tapped the door, and it swung open.

This place was different than the others for a couple reasons, but mostly because it was full of _things_. They entered into a wide room with sloping ceilings and rows of tall shelves. On the shelves Draco spotted strange gold instruments, hourglasses, and seemingly-empty glass jars of all sizes. He didn't see any people. They walked along the edge of the room, keeping their wands up and ready, not wanting to be caught unawares. They passed by several small offices, all of which were empty as well, before spying an open door. They slowed as they reached it, hearing voices.

Slipping through, Draco and Blaise found themselves in the largest room yet. In fact, it appeared to be unending. Like the hourglass-room before, this one was lined with shelves, except in here the only items to be found were millions of grapefruit-sized crystal balls. Each had a small, dusty label, not that Draco could make sense of any of them.

He could see the faint glow of another person's lit wand, and followed it. When he and Blaise came around the next shelf, they spotted their classmates up ahead; from here, they couldn't make out who was who, though.

Someone shouted angrily - Draco thought he recognized Potter's voice. The small group set off at a run down one of the aisles in the room. Draco and Blaise tailed them from a safe distance, keeping well out of the way and into the shadows.

"Harry," someone said. Draco could only hear very faintly. "Why does this one have your name on it?"

Draco looked to Blaise. Really, what _was_ going on?

"What are they doing here?" Blaise murmered. "And what _are_ these, anyway -"

Blaise was interrupted by yells coming from the others. Several _pops_ sounded off, and when the boys looked again, two dark silhouettes were blocking their fellow students from view. Draco crouched instinctively, his heart rate shooting up. Judging by the many new voices they could hear, it was more than two people who had just arrived. Draco strained his ears to hear more, but the pounding of his pulse in his head drowned them out.

 _No, no, no,_ he thought _. This is bad. This is really bad. Where is she?_

He wanted to blast his way into the middle of that group and pull Hermione out himself, but right now, Draco wasn't even sure he could move one step. He was frozen with fear.

"Who are they?" Blaise hissed. "Not - not _Death Eaters_ , are they?" He sounded frightened.

Draco didn't know how to answer. He thought Blaise was right, but at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

There was a blast from within the small crowd, and then all hell broke loose. Draco could hear curses being cast and watched in horror as flashes of bright color lit up the room. The sound of glass shattering echoed about, and suddenly numerous new voices flooded the air. A few people pushed past those dark figures and began sprinting right toward Draco and Blaise.

"Run," Blaise said, yanking on Draco's elbow. Draco didn't want to leave - he had to make sure she was okay, he had to - but his feet started moving of their own accord. The two Slytherins fled back the way they'd come, back through the door to the hourglass room. Draco was about to stop and turn when Blaise shoved him roughly. When Draco hit the ground, he could hear the others coming their way.

He crawled over to the wall and brandished his wand at the doorway, trying desperately to think of the most effective curses he knew.

Harry Potter burst through, followed Neville Longbottom and Hermione. Draco's chest seized at seeing her - face pale, with her hair wilder than ever, fright in her eyes. None of them turned his way, but instead headed straight for the other side of the room, and the exit.

A man wearing a long black cloak stepped in after them, his face concealed by a skull mask. Draco's blood ran cold at the sight. It dawned on him that this was a far greater danger than he'd ever faced before. Would they even survive the night?

" _Stupefy!_ "

Draco recognized Hermione's determined voice, and he sprang to his feet. She stood just beside the safety of a shelf, her wand aimed at the Death Eater, who blocked the stunner easily. He raised his wand menacingly.

" _Avada Ke_ -"

 _NO_.

Draco saw red. He screamed a curse, the first one that came to mind, and at the same time he heard Potter shout something too. The Death Eater was struck on both sides, a mix of blue and red light colliding with one another. The man stumbled, clearly off-balance and bewildered.

Draco heaved his breaths angrily. He raised his wand, fully aware that it might be an Unforgiveable he cast next. The bastard deserved it.

" _Stupefy!_ "

Hermione's stunner, more successful this time, knocked the man backward. He collided with the shelf behind him, and a large jar tipped down, falling directly onto his head. At first Draco thought the jar made him disappear - the man's head vanished, mask clattering to the ground.

The wail of a baby soon followed. Draco stared in horror as the jar shattered against the stone floor, leaving behind just a baby's head on the man's body. It swelled, aging rapidly, returning to the head of a fully-grown man, only to de-age again.

Draco tore himself away from the dreadful sight. Other Death Eaters had streamed in, eyes locked on Harry, who Draco only just realized was holding one of the glass orbs from the other room. He pulled close to the shelf next to him, still unnoticed.

" _Impedimenta!_ "

One of the Death Eaters had tried cursing Harry, but it didn't seem to have worked. Draco peered around the corner. He could see Harry and Hermione, with Neville bleeding profusely from his nose just behind them.

The Death Eater which hadn't already spoken began laughing. The sound chilled Draco to the bone. The man shook off his hood and peeled off that mask, and even from the poor angle, Draco recognized him instantly. Antonin Dolohov. He'd been plastered all over the Daily Prophet.

He was a very dangerous wizard.

Dolohov slashed his arm through the air and a purple light left his wand. Before Draco could even realize what had happened, the light struck Hermione squarely in the chest. A look of surprise crossed her pretty face, her small mouth falling open with a light gasp, and she crumpled to the ground.

A hand wrapped around Draco's mouth, stifling the roar of fury he let loose. The wailing baby drowned him out. An arm had looped around his chest, dragging him backward, away from Hermione's unconscious form. He kicked out madly.

" _Not now_ ," Blaise hissed in his ear.

Draco stopped fighting, but his will to tear Dolohov limb from limb didn't go away. It was only eclipsed by that image in his head of purple fire slamming into Hermione's chest, her golden eyes wide with shock.

Blaise kept a hand clamped firmly over Draco's mouth. They could hear Dolohov speaking to Harry now, and Neville sputtered something in response.

" _Petrificus Totalis!_ "

Dolohov's limbs sprang to his sides, rendering the man stiff as a board, and he fell onto his back, now completely useless.

"Is she alright?"

Draco was back to fighting at Blaise's restraint, but this time his friend let go. He didn't hesitate to run around the corner, now in full-view of both Potter and Longbottom, his face ashen and slick with sweat. Potter had his back toward Draco, and he and Longbottom were crouched around Hermione's limp form. The sight gripped him with fear.

"She's breathing, yeah," Longbottom said. Amid Draco's overwhelming relief, he almost didn't see the confused look Neville was sending his way. Draco sprang back into the shelves quickly.

"Where'd the other one go?" Potter asked.

But at that moment the door burst open, and Draco spied Luna Lovegood with both Weasleys - Ginny was propped up between the two, limping. Ron had black goo dribbling from his mouth and was babbling quietly.

The group convened immediately and shuffled off to the other side of the room, hopefully to the door out. Neville picked up Hermione, cradling her close to his chest; Draco could see the uncertain glance that Neville cast back his way. They were nearly there when Draco heard a voice.

The _last_ possible voice he wanted to hear at that moment.

"There they are!" shrieked his Aunt Bella.

Draco ducked, stealing away to the side of the room with Blaise. They watched as more cloaked figures, headed by the crazed Bellatrix Lestrange, strode purposefully down the center aisle. The two boys ran toward the group of students, which were only just now reaching the exit. Neville, at the back of the group, struggled to raise his wand while holding Hermione up.

Knowing he might regret this later, Draco stepped toward him. He tried not to be seen by the others, who were busy wrestling Ron Weasley into submission.

"Go," Draco said. "I'll take her. _Go_."

But Neville only glared at him.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Neville hissed suspiciously. "You - you stay away!"

Blaise was at Draco's side in an instant. He flicked his wand.

" _Obliviate_."

A dazed look overcame Longbottom's face, and Hermione tumbled out of his arms - fortunately, Draco was near enough to catch her. He dragged her swiftly away from the door, while Blaise gave Longbottom a good shove through it.

The two made it safely back into the shadows before the Death Eaters arrived. Draco held his breath, but none of them hesitated or even looked their way. Once they left and the door clicked shut behind them, Draco slumped to the ground. He rested his head exhaustedly on Hermione's thick hair, pressing her tightly into his chest. It had been too close.

 _I almost lost you,_ he thought. Panic rose up in his chest. _What would I have done if I'd lost you?_

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that, but for now he just tried to enjoy keeping her safe and close. Blaise, however, wasn't relaxed in the least. He paced back and forth.

"I'm going in," he said finally, raising his wand.

"What?" Draco said. "Are you _mental?_ Those are bloody _Death Eaters_ out there! We're lucky we're not dead already!"

"Easy for you to say, you've got her in _here_ , away from all that." Blaise continued pacing. "But the others - what if they do get killed, Draco? What if we don't help and somebody dies? I can't have that on my conscience."

"I don't want that either," Draco argued. "Just - just don't be so quick to go barging into battle, okay?"

Blaise fumed, glaring at his friend. Draco struggled internally for a long moment, then finally groaned.

" _Fuck it all_ ," he said. He hoisted Hermione up and stood against the wall; already his arms were tiring out. She wasn't a heavy person, but she was an entire human being, he supposed. That was a lot of weight to lug around.

"Don't," Blaise said. "Stay here. Keep her safe. I'll go."

"Not alone," Draco snapped. "You're _not_ going alone, Blaise -"

"Keep her safe," Blaise repeated calmly. He gave Draco a heavy stare, then turned and left the room.

Draco clutched Hermione to his chest, unsure of what to do or where to go. He should probably go seek help, he knew, but then what would he say? That he followed Harry Potter to the Department of Mysteries, only to end up in the middle of a battle with Death Eaters, including his own aunt?

He carried Hermione slowly to the door, and let himself into the spinning chamber. Instead of watching the room whirl around, he buried his face in Hermione's hair and breathed deeply.

 _Don't worry,_ he thought, _We'll get you some help. It'll be alright. I promise._

It took a few hesitant tries to find the right door - he wanted to go back to the lift, not into the chaos - and at one point he nearly opened one up only to hear shouts and bangs from the other side. Finally, he was shuffling down the long dark corridor, then closing the lift behind himself. He shut his eyes, and prayed that Blaise would be okay.

 _Ding_.

Draco stepped out onto the main level of the Ministry, only to find himself face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore.

...

"I thought I might find you here, Mr. Malfoy."

Two days had passed since the incident at the Ministry of Magic, and Draco had stolen away to the Hospital Wing once again. It was three in the morning, and all the occupants of the ward were fast asleep - all, including Hermione.

Except Dumbledore was also awake, and had come to sit beside Draco on an empty cot. He chewed on something, and offered Draco a little box of lemon candies; Draco took one with an awkward smile.

Apparently a lot had gone down in the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore hadn't explained it all to Draco, but he hadn't exactly seemed surprised to find him there, either, holding an unconscious Hermione Granger in his arms. All Dumbledore had really said about it was that Voldemort had planned an attack on Harry Potter, and had lured him to the Ministry for an attempt on his life. Dumbledore said as much over tea the day afterward, when he'd called Draco and Blaise into his office for a private chat.

Amazingly, not a soul had known that Draco and Blaise were present for the whole thing. Blaise had gotten lost trying to find his way to the fight, but had arrived just in time to _ennervate_ Lovegood and make sure she was alright, not that she would remember. The flush on Blaise's face when Dumbledore mentioned it made Draco wonder if there was something more to the story.

Dumbledore had made sure that Draco and Blaise escaped the Ministry quietly. Really, for a crazy old codger, he'd actually been quite sensitive about it.

"You might say she's lucky," Dumbledore mused, his gaze on Hermione. "If she didn't have you watching over her that evening, she might not be with us today."

"I didn't do much," Draco replied. He felt odd, sitting there and watching a person sleep with Dumbledore present. At least when he was alone he could pretend it wasn't weird.

"I think Ms. Granger would disagree," the older wizard said. "She is a very brilliant young witch, isn't she?"

Draco felt his face getting hot. He didn't reply.

"Yes, she is quite brilliant," Dumbledore continued, "And I think anyone would agree, she is also an extraordinary young woman. You didn't follow them to the Department of Mysteries just for the sake of Professor Umbridge, did you?"

"No," Draco said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded, popping another lemon drop into his mouth.

"I daresay, you might consider telling her how you feel. Doesn't she have the right to know?"

Draco stiffened. "It's none of your business, I don't think."

Despite the ice in Draco's tone, Dumbledore merely munched on, his eyes twinkling.

Grumbling inwardly, Draco glared. What did Dumbledore know about anything, anyway? And what was he playing at, meddling in this kind of thing?

He huffed, looking for a change of subject.

"My Aunt Bella was one of them, you know," Draco said.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Indeed, she was."

"I think my father was, too."

"I think you might be right about that." Dumbledore stood slowly, and looked Draco directly in the eye. "This next year will be very difficult for you, I think, Draco. Voldemort has kept your family close ever since his first rise to power, and I should expect that to be the case in the future as well. But do remember: only _you_ can decide your fate. Only you decide who to ally yourself with in this coming war. And Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore glanced back at Hermione, smiling slightly. "I do believe she'd like to have you on her side."

With that, Dumbledore turned, and strode leisurely out of the room.

...

"I still can't believe he's _back_ ," fumed Pansy. "I mean, sure, sack Umbridge - but why do they insist on bringing Dumbledore _back?_ "

Pansy, Draco, and Blaise all sat in a compartment on the train, watching the sunny landscape scroll past the window and snacking on various treats from the trolley.

"Don't know, maybe they're _all_ nuts," Blaise said. He bit into a chocolate frog and read its card boredly.

The last few days of the year had swept by quickly, and Pansy had never learned exactly what had happened when her friends left to chase down Potter and his crew. To her credit, she'd been nearly knocked out by Ron Weasley, so most of that evening was a blur to her anyway.

Draco hadn't cared much about the quidditch or house cups, though everyone else seemed quite enthusiastic. He'd spent his days worrying and trying to bide time, and his evenings sitting on the empty cot beside Hermione's bed in the Hospital Wing. She'd only fully recovered yesterday.

She never woke up or found out about Draco's involvement, thank Merlin. That memory charm Blaise had planted on Longbottom worked splendidly, or at least, Draco assumed it had. He doubted Hermione would have left him alone if she'd known.

Now he sat with his two best friends, trying to prepare himself for going home and facing the summer. Dumbledore's warning still rang in his head.

 _This next year will be very difficult._

"Well, I'm off for the loo," Pansy said, sensing disinterest from her friends. More accurately, she probably wanted to go complain to Theo Nott, who tended to listen carefully and nod in just the right places.

Only a moment after Pansy left, the door slid open again.

"Quibbler?"

Luna Lovegood held out a copy of that magazine of hers, and to Draco's surprise, her wide eyes were appraising Blaise curiously. Blaise blushed - Blaise _never_ blushed - and accepted it with a small thanks, looking back out the window.

"It was very brave of you, coming after us like that," she said airily.

"What - I mean, what are you talking about?" Draco said nervously, though she wasn't looking at him.

Luna took a small step into the cabin, and Blaise snapped to attention immediately. He seemed to forget that Draco was even present.

Draco watched as the two stared at each other for a long moment, Luna entirely at ease, and Blaise searching wildly for a hint at how to respond. According to Dumbledore, Luna wouldn't actually remember seeing them that night. Right?

"Thank you, for what you did," she said. She bent down and placed a light kiss on Blaise's cheek.

She smiled happily and exited the compartment, leaving two very bewildered Slytherins in her midst. Blaise had an expression of blank shock on his face, and had raised a hand to touch his cheek right where she'd kissed him. Draco glanced quickly between his friend and the door, blinking.

"What was - how did she - _wait_ ," he said, bracing himself against the seat. "All this time - it's been Luna, hasn't it?"

But Blaise never answered. Instead he grinned broadly, slipped the copy of The Quibbler into his bag, and returned to watching out the window.

Draco sat back, trying to process this new information. He had to smile, in spite of himself; he'd always wanted for Blaise to find a nice girl, hadn't he?

 _I do believe she'd like to have you on her side._

Dumbledore's words filled Draco's head. His smile faded. He wasn't sure if he really believed that, in the end, he'd get the girl too - but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try.

* * *

 **A/N** : Well, there you have it, the chapter I was SO excited to share with you. I think I've been just slumming through fifth year until I could get to this one.

Please leave a review! I loved writing this, and would really like some feedback. Thank you to all of you who have reviewed previous chapters. I mean that very sincerely. You're awesome.

There's a lot planned for sixth year and beyond. It's going to drift slowly away from canon from here out, I think, but I do like the idea that everything Draco and Blaise did could have actually happened. After all, nobody really knew, did they?

Anyway, thanks all.

PennyDreddful


	17. The Dark Mark

**Chapter Sixteen: The Dark Mark**

Draco stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, wearing a thick, pitch-black cloak over his dark suit, and he frowned deeply at his reflection. His skin prickled with nervousness, and if he weren't mistaken, his face was gaunt with stress too.

It was induction day.

A soft knock came from the door, and his mother peeked in. She looked sad and anxious, yet beautifully so, with her long blonde hair draped over one shoulder. She, too, wore a black cloak. She walked over and wrapped her arms around Draco's shoulders, joining him in staring at the mirror. He was nearly a head taller than her by now.

"I'm so sorry, darling," she said. The way her voice broke told Draco how desperately she meant it.

"Why be sorry?" Draco said bitterly. "I thought this was all for 'the greater good.' I thought that _sacrifices_ had to be made."

Narcissa looked down quickly, and Draco regretted being so curt with her.

"You're just so young," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Draco couldn't argue with her, there. He _felt_ young. It was only a month ago now that he'd turned sixteen. A few short weeks ago, he'd dressed in his best robes and spent a warm, happy evening with Blaise and Pansy for his birthday - tonight, it was a black cloak for the induction ceremony. A black cloak to meet _him_ in.

He didn't want to do this. He wanted to turn tail and run, except he couldn't. There was too much on the line.

The door opened once again, this time much more boisterously than before. In strode Aunt Bella, flaunting her fitted black robes with an exuberant shimmy. She cackled happily, like they were on the brink of some grand celebration, and not the worst day of Draco's life.

"How are you, Draco dear?" she sighed, stepping up to his other shoulder and leaning on him.

He didn't smile back at her, and his mother's grip on him tightened. He grit his teeth.

"I'm ready."

Bella threw back her head and laughed, before turning her bright, crazed eyes upon his reflection in the mirror. She reached up and kissed his cheek.

"There's my perfect nephew," she said. "Already has his serious face on, doesn't he Cissy? Or is he always so grim?"

Narcissa frowned at her sister. "Bella, I don't think you're appreciating the _gravity_ of -"

"Our Lord is going to _celebrate_ him, Cissy!" Bella snapped, her smile gone. "He'll make him one of his _own!_ There is no higher honor. I think I appreciate the circumstances _perfectly_."

Draco tried to ignore the argument that was occurring on either side of him. He stared down his reflection, growing irrationally angry with it.

"Don't worry, love," Bella whispered in his ear. She patted his chest, which made Draco's heart leap frantically, though he didn't show it. "I know you'll make us proud."

As his aunt sauntered out of the room, and his mother, sensing Draco's discomfort, left as well, Draco held his breath. His pulse raced.

 _She doesn't know, does she?_ he wondered, loosening his tie. Sweat broke out on his brow _. No, she can't know. There's no way._

Lifting the edge of his cloak, Draco reached into the lapel of his suit underneath. He slipped his fingers into the pocket there, which was sewn in almost unnoticeably, and felt a thin scrap of folded parchment. His pulse began to slow.

 _No, she doesn't know. Don't be paranoid_.

He pulled the parchment out and unfolded it. Neat handwriting scrawled across its surface, only two or three lines, but it was more than enough.

 _Draco,_

 _I hope you have a nice summer. Be safe. Things are changing, and I'm afraid you'll be one of the first to see it for yourself. Remember, you have help available when you need it._

It wasn't signed, but he knew exactly who had written it.

It had arrived only a week into the holiday, a tiny scroll attached to a fat tawny owl. He hadn't believed his eyes at first. She had thought of him - not only that, but thought enough to _write_ to him. And she'd been smart enough not to include her name. That alone was enough evidence that the note had been sent by Hermione Granger.

He re-folded the parchment and tucked it away. It was risky to bring something so personal to the meeting tonight, but Draco just couldn't let go of that little scrap of paper.

 _I could just leave,_ he thought. _Floo to Diagon Alley, then write to her. We could both leave. He wouldn't have to find us._

That thought was quickly tailed by a pang of guilt. He could see the pain on his mother's face already. If it hurt her so badly to watch Draco become a Death Eater, how bad would it be if he went missing entirely?

Draco shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair. No, he had a duty to his family. He would fulfill that duty, and he would do it with Hermione's short letter in his pocket.

Sighing slowly, he drew himself up, then left the room.

...

The grandest dining hall in Malfoy Manor had been selected to host the meeting. Though the table was long enough to comfortably seat thirty people, only a dozen or so were in attendance, all near to the empty chair that Voldemort would soon occupy. The lighting was dim, which made it difficult to recognize anyone under their hoods.

Draco entered cautiously, trying to feign confidence. Aunt Bella was the only one not wearing her hood, and she grinned at him. She sat directly to the left of the head of the table. The seat to the right of it was empty.

He caught sight of his parents, their long hair gleaming silver in the candlelight, and strode toward them. His father, whose cane leaned against the table beside him, reached out a hand to pull out a nearby chair.

Draco sat, and waited. No one spoke. The only sound was the breathy flickering of the candles, and it put Draco on edge. He just wanted this over with, already.

All at once, every cloaked figure stood, turning to face the door. Draco scrambled to stand, and managed to only be a split-second behind the others.

His eyes widened at the sight before him.

Stepping languidly into the hall, a tall, almost albino-skinned man surveyed them through dark eyes. His robes exposed the white skin of his forearms, of which one bore the original Dark Mark; his features were so serpentine, from the flat slits of his nose to the odd shape of his bald head, that Draco thought he might be just as much snake as he was man. His presence was commanding. He brandished a long, bony wand in his clawed right hand.

Just beside him, and scurrying along with considerably less grandeur, was a man Draco only barely recognized by reputation. Peter Pettigrew, looking like he hadn't washed or shaved in weeks, fidgeted nervously at his Dark Lord's side.

"What a warm welcome," Voldemort commented, then strode to his place at the table. Pettigrew followed, scratching at his patchy beard with a glowing silver hand. "Though I had hoped our number would be greater."

No one responded. Voldemort sat, and at that cue, everyone else did as well. In his focus on Voldemort, Draco almost jumped at the new sight of a massive cobra on the table, slithering by and hissing softly.

Voldemort offered a skeletal hand and the snake rubbed its head against his palm. It flicked its tongue and wound its way down around the leg of Voldemort's chair and up the armrest, coming to set its chin on his shoulder.

Draco swallowed, but did his best not to appear nervous. If there ever was a time to be a man, and not a boy, it was now.

"But," Voldemort said, appraising his followers, "That will soon be remedied, won't it? Tonight, our army will be welcoming a new recruit." His piercing eyes landed on Draco. Everyone else turned to face him.

Heart pounding in his chest, Draco tried to imperceptibly reach up to his jacket pocket - he needed all the support he could get right now - but he couldn't. He cursed inwardly for not putting the damn note in the pocket of his trousers instead.

Unsure of how to react, Draco settled for lifting his chin and returning Voldemort's stare. He hoped it looked confident, instead of defiant, which was how he really felt.

 _That and scared as hell,_ he reminded himself.

Voldemort smiled, and extended a hand toward Draco.

"My dear boy," he said, "You have chosen well in coming to me. It is your world, after all, that will be cleansed by my work. Imagine a world that isn't sullied by mudbloods, blood-traitors, and muggles. Imagine a world without filth like _this_."

He flicked his wand, and the door at the back of the hall opened. Draco turned, then immediately wanted to retch. He watched as a scrawny, mousy-looking man in a tattered business suit glided into the room. The man floated along several feet off the ground as though guided by an invisible wire. He twitched, and some foam leaked out of the corner of his mouth.

The Death Eaters around the table all shrank back, and Bellatrix even hissed in disgust.

Draco watched as the man was hoisted up above the table. To his great horror, Voldemort placed the man exactly in front of Draco's seat.

"Do you know who this is?" Voldemort asked.

"Squire!" Pettigrew piped up.

"Did I say you could speak?" Voldemort said, a dangerous note to his voice. He leveled a glare upon Pettigrew that Draco thought could kill. There was some manner of surprise that filled Draco when Pettigrew didn't drop dead, but merely shrank back and whimpered to himself.

Voldemort looked up again, directly at Draco.

Throat dry as sandpaper, Draco tried to make sense of the situation. He didn't recognize the floating, frothing man, but he was obviously supposed to. What had Pettigrew said? 'Squire?'

"The answer, boy, is as Wormtail said," Voldemort explained, saving Draco from the need to answer. "An American wizard named Paul Squire. And what exactly, Mr. Squire, is the nature of your work? Please, share with the class."

Though the frail man didn't seem entirely aware, the sound of his name coming from Voldemort's mouth must have been too much. The fellow began hacking and sobbing, spewing foam and spittle from his mouth. He tried to curl away and escape, but his body wouldn't move from its place hanging in the air.

"P- _please_... n-n-no..." he stuttered, eyes wide in fear.

"Perhaps then _you_ could enlighten us, Lucius?"

Draco could feel his father stiffen at being addressed by the Dark Lord himself, and felt suddenly afraid. He wondered if he'd imagined the hint of threat he heard in Voldemort's words, or if there was something else going on that he didn't know. Lucius cleared his throat, and spoke in a calm, clear voice.

"The man was promoting relations with muggles," he said. "He taught that mixed-blood families are not only justifiable, but even preferable. Disgusting."

Draco stared at the man in shock. That was all? He'd thought for sure it had to be something else, something much bigger.

"Squire's teachings represent a far greater problem, of course," Voldemort said, addressing the entire assembly. "This vile blasphemy has worked its way into our society as a whole. Witches and wizards of noble, pure bloodlines marry muggle _trash,_ and they pollute their own magic, and also the magic of their children. Not only that, but muggle-borns are frequently admitted and welcomed as our own.

" _Crucio_."

Paul Squire, the already-terrified man, screamed. His body clenched and convulsed, and Draco could see the muscles of his neck ripple with the pain of the curse. His screams filled Draco's ears before breaking down into wracking sobs.

" _Please!_ " he wheezed, before seizing up and vomiting onto the table. The Death Eaters all shrank back as one.

"This defamation of magic will kill us all," Voldemort continued, ignoring Squire. "We will cease to exist entirely. And it is time to defend ourselves."

Voldemort stood, sneering in revulsion at the bawling man in front of him. He looked to Draco again.

"Kill him, Draco."

 _What?_

Draco's blood ran cold in his veins. His mouth grew even drier. He couldn't comprehend what was being asked of him.

Lucius looked sharply at his son, but didn't betray any emotion. Seconds ticked by without Draco reacting in the slightest. Finally, it was his Aunt Bella who saved him.

"My dear Lord," she said, almost endearingly, "I'm afraid the boy has never been taught the Unforgiveables. Not _yet_."

Voldemort smiled. "Yes. A demonstration, then." He aimed his wand at Paul Squire, who was now crying almost silently, his body hanging limply in the air. " _Avada kedavra_."

Green light shot out of Voldemort's wand, which he swished jaggedly, and it smashed into Squire's chest. Draco blinked - for a moment, it wasn't Squire he saw, and it wasn't green light. It was Hermione, and the light was purple. Fear gripped him.

The man now hung limply in the air, not making any more sound. With another swish of Voldemort's wand, the body fell with a crash onto the table, into the pool of vomit.

"Nagini," Voldemort whispered, turning to the snake. "Eat."

Draco shrank back as the giant boa slithered onto the table, its jaw unhinging as it went, and sank its fangs into Squire's left foot.

"There will be a time for you to kill too, Draco." Voldemort stared at him with those dark eyes. "War always requires sacrifices. And beginning today, you are a soldier. Come."

Hesitating slightly, Draco stood up from his chair. He walked slowly toward Voldemort, equally grateful not to watch Nagini's feasting and horrified at what would happen next.

Voldemort held out his hand, his long clawed nails shining in the candlelight.

"Your arm."

Not entirely certain he would get his arm back, not after that previous display, Draco had to gulp back his terror before extending his left hand. Voldemort snatched his wrist, and Draco couldn't help but yelp. A few Death Eaters chuckled.

Voldemort turned his arm over, and brushed back the sleeve.

Draco ground his teeth as that wand grazed over his unmarred, sensitive flesh, and he had to clench his eyes shut when Voldemort began speaking. Rapid latin flew from the wizard's tongue, and as it did so, a burning sensation flared upon Draco's forearm. The burning grew in intensity. Not that he'd ever been branded before, but Draco imagined that setting white-hot metal on his skin would feel about the same.

Black ink bubbled up, as though it came from Draco's being itself. First it was the skull, then, as Draco watched, the skull's jaw actually _opened_. A black snake slid out, creeping through his skin, leaving a trail of pain in its wake.

Voldemort let go. It was done.

Clenching his fist, Draco stared down at his arm, and at the tattoo which had permanently marked him. An instant hatred filled him to the brim. It wasn't right. Voldemort had no claim to him. He didn't _own_ him.

Right?

"As a new member among our ranks, I have set aside a very important task for you." Voldemort smiled again, and Draco hated it. "A very _particular_ task. Are you ready for the challenge that I ask of you?"

"I'm ready," Draco said immediately, surprising even himself with the strength in his voice. He vaguely noted that his Aunt Bella began clapping excitedly at this.

"Excellent," Voldemort said. He turned to address the rest of the Death Eaters, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder with a large degree of arrogance. "My friends, our young Draco will take on the greatest challenge so far, one not even many of you could accomplish, I'm sure.

"He will kill Albus Dumbledore."

Narcissa gasped audibly, but otherwise the cloaked figures began applauding. Bellatrix cackled and clapped like Draco had already done as asked and walked away a champion, not that it gave him much confidence. His mind was still reeling. Voldemort's grip on his shoulder had tightened painfully.

 _I'm going to what?_

No, that was impossible. Albus Dumbledore was arguably the strongest wizard alive - Voldemort should be the one attacking him, not Draco. Not some measly sixth-year student.

Voldemort leaned close to Draco's ear, whispering. "I should hope that you don't fail me, Draco. You will regret it if you do."

Draco spent the rest of the evening trying not to faint.

...

He slammed his bedroom door shut, and immediately ripped off his cloak. Tugging Hermione's small note from his lapel pocket, Draco sank down onto his bed, clutching his head in his hands. His arm still burned where he'd received the mark.

 _I need help,_ he realized desperately _._ He needed help, his family needed help, and Voldemort needed to _die_ _._

But for now...

Draco itched to write to Hermione. He didn't even know what he'd say, not exactly, he just knew that she'd want to hear about this. For some crazy reason, she had no idea how much he'd helped her just the other month, and yet she'd reached out to him. That had to mean _something_.

He stood and went to his school trunk, which hadn't been touched since Hogwarts had let out for the holiday. Snapping it open, Draco rummaged through its contents. He found a quill and some parchment, and continued digging around for ink.

 _Where's Hermione's pen-quill when you need it?_ He thought. Maybe he'd ask her to make him one.

Finally he found his ink, and he sat on the floor right there. With his school things scattered about around him, Draco felt rather childish, but ignored that feeling. He tapped his mouth with the end of the quill, thinking hard.

 _Dear Hermione_ , he wrote. He crossed it out immediately and tore off that end of the parchment.

 _Hermione,_

 _It's happened. I am one of them now, but I wish I wasn't. He wants me to_

Draco paused. He was about to write "kill Dumbledore," but then realized that it wasn't very smart to say as much via owl.

 _He wants me to recruit around Hogwarts. I don't know who to turn to now, except for you._

Draco stared down at the parchment. He didn't want to sound needy. Maybe it was best to keep it short.

Not signing his name, as per Hermione's correspondence, Draco blew the ink dry before rolling up the little note. He'd just need to borrow his father's owl, which shouldn't be too difficult.

Feeling some of the weight lifted that Voldemort had heaped upon him earlier that evening, Draco had to smile in spite of himself. Who would have thought that he would become pen-pals with Hermione Granger? It sounded absurd, but he liked it. He was already looking forward to her response, even though he knew she probably couldn't do much in the way of getting him real help. That was okay, though. He just needed to know she was there.

Little did Draco know, he would spend the rest of summer waiting for a letter that wouldn't arrive.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for the reviews so far. They are so lovely to read. Please point out any errors you notice, I do actually go back and edit according to reviews I read, I just try not to post the corrections until I also post a new chapter, so you don't get a ton of unnecessary alerts.

I'm sorry there wasn't a lot of Dramione in this chapter. We had to see the induction ceremony, it's too huge an event in Draco's life to leave it out, and this summer there just isn't a lot of room for direct Dramione action. I do promise that this story will pick up on the romance.

Well, what did you think? Did I manage to make Voldemort menacing enough? Was everyone properly in-character?

I look forward to reading your reviews!

Much love,

PennyDreddful


	18. Back to Hogwarts

**Chapter Seventeen: Back to Hogwarts**

Hermione sat with Ron and Harry in a small cabin of the Hogwarts Express, chewing her thumbnail nervously and tuning out their conversation. Soon they'd be called into the prefects' quarters for the first meeting of the year. She had already changed into her robes, hoping to set a good example for her ever-procrastinating classmates, while the boys carried on about something - _someone_ \- she really didn't want to talk about.

"Really, you'd think he'd be out bullying first-years already," Ron said grumpily.

"Maybe after the Inquisitorial Squad, prefect duty is too tame," Harry said.

Hermione didn't comment. The 'he' in question was, of course, Draco, and she could never bring herself to speak when he was the topic of choice. She knew that Ron and Harry would see straight through her, and she couldn't have that. It didn't help, either, that Harry had absolutely _convinced_ himself Draco was a Death-Eater now - and Hermione hated knowing the corroborative truth - and he'd insisted on following him around Diagon Alley the other day.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ Hermione thought. _He shouldn't be letting himself get caught so easily._

She hated to think what would happen if Harry proved his suspicions to be correct.

The compartment door slid open, revealing a tiny, trembling first-year. He looked at the trio with wide eyes, clutching a note in his hands.

"H-Harry Potter?" he asked nervously. When Harry nodded, the boy handed the note over.

"Oh great," Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. He held the card out to Hermione and Ron. "It's Slughorn. He's invited me over to his compartment."

In the hall, Hermione could hear Neville wondering aloud what Slughorn could possibly want. As it turned out, Harry wasn't the only one invited to this shindig.

"Er - thanks," Harry said, noticing that the first-year hadn't moved. The boy squeaked something unintelligible and ran off.

"Why aren't we invited?" Ron asked indignantly.

Harry shrugged, standing. "I guess I'll go find out."

At his departure, Hermione could breathe a sigh of relief. With Harry gone, it was a lot less likely that they'd be debating over Draco's apparent evil intentions.

Guilt stabbed through Hermione's chest; she hadn't replied to his letter from June. That was two months gone, and two months for him to simmer over what she could only assume to be hatred toward her now. After all, to him it looked like she'd abandoned him, didn't it? And right when he'd needed it the most.

She knew the way she _should_ respond to this situation: she shouldn't care. She should resume her studies and turn a blind eye to her handsome Slytherin - _the_ handsome Slytherin, not _hers_ \- and let go of whatever they'd had.

 _What_ did _we have?_

Hermione had no earthly idea. A few snogs, yes, but that last time, it had been so much more, it had been... Caring. Careful. No one had ever treated her that way before. And then there was the whole ordeal after that -

"You coming?"

Hermione snapped out of her reverie, looking around. Ron was standing at the open compartment door, with an impatient-looking Selene Fawcett standing behind him tapping her foot. Hermione only vaguely knew the older girl from dueling club her second year, and she'd never liked her much.

"Yes, of course," she said hurriedly.

They made their way down to the prefect's quarters, and once they settled in it was difficult not to feel a sense of deja vu. It was customary for a new class of prefects to be selected from the fifth years, but this time around, it was mostly the same faces Hermione saw, with the exception of Selene Fawcett and Orwell Chambers as the new Heads. They were both Ravenclaws.

Hermione sat beside Ron, who slung an arm over the back of her seat. She looked over at the Slytherins.

When she saw Draco, her heart leaped in her chest - really, she should get a hold of herself - but it was accompanied by a sudden drop. He wasn't looking her way. In fact, if body language said anything, he was actually ignoring her completely. Hermione didn't realize she'd been staring until Pansy set a hand on Draco's knee. Highly affronted (were _they_ together now?) Hermione glared at the girl, who met her gaze coolly, with a touch of possessiveness.

Slumping back into her seat, Hermione tried to pay attention to the meeting. It didn't go very well.

...

Draco turned his shoulders, trying his best not to give Hermione the satisfaction of seeing him upset. He knew he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help it. Pansy set a hand on his knee; he could see her mouth set in an angry frown, and he knew exactly who she meant it for.

Not that Pansy actually _knew_ anything. They hadn't spoken much over the holiday, though she did know he was a Death Eater now. She and Blaise both knew, and he assumed that Vince and Gregory did as well, since their fathers had been present for the induction, and also for several of the meetings held after that.

He shuddered. No matter how many times he stood before Voldemort, he just couldn't get over the raw fear of it. He'd watched Voldemort torture and kill multiple people by now, many of them muggles who'd strayed too close. Some of them were young.

 _Keep it together_ , he told himself, clenching his jaw.

"Say what you will about Humphries and Clearwater," Fawcett said, handing out some papers, "They knew what they were doing. You'll all grumble about patrolling with one another, but when it comes to planning things later on, it will all go much more smoothly for it."

"We did get a head start on the patrol schedule though," Chambers added. "And no more switching around. That bit's getting old."

Draco stared down at the paper. An odd sensation crept over him at seeing that no, he wasn't paired up with Hermione for either of his shifts. He shook his head. If that was disappointment he felt, he wouldn't have it.

Pansy huffed. She brandished her schedule toward Draco with a scowl.

 _Pansy Parkinson (Slytherin)_

 _Tuesday evenings: patrol with Hermione Granger (Gryffindor)_

 _Friday evenings: patrol with Zacharias Smith (Hufflepuff)_

He would have smirked at Pansy's expense, but he couldn't muster the energy.

The meeting went on for a while after that, with Fawcett and Chambers rambling on about code of conduct and Hogsmeade weekends. Draco rubbed his left arm absentmindedly and tuned them out.

 _Maybe I can dump prefect duty this year,_ he thought. _Merlin knows I have enough to worry about without it._

He made the mistake of glancing up, and saw that Hermione was staring at his arm. Even though she couldn't see the tattoo under his sleeve (as far as Draco was concerned, it was long-sleeves only from here on out) he still jumped slightly. Her bright eyes snapped up to his.

Draco looked away.

...

Some time later (too long, by Draco's opinion) the meeting convened. He didn't realize until everyone stood and began shuffling out of the cabin. Pansy slipped away quickly, most likely to catch Theo Nott, who she still seemed quite fond of. Even Chambers led Fawcett into the aisle, with the promise of purchasing her some treat she'd never tried before.

 _That's trouble waiting to happen,_ Draco thought with annoyance, watching the Heads flirt awkwardly with one another.

"Draco?"

He stood, knowing that voice.

 _Dammit_. He should have been the first out the door.

By now he was alone in the spacious compartment, with only Hermione Granger's imploring gaze and the retreating backs of his fellow prefects for company. The last of them left, and the door slid quietly shut behind them.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, trying to look anywhere except at the Gryffindor witch. He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment.

"Draco, please," Hermione said, laying a hand gently on his arm. He flinched away. "I meant to write. Truly, I did."

"Funny," he snapped. "That was two months of trying, was it? I'd hate to see what you get accomplished in just one then - blow your parents off too, I expect?"

Hermione blushed indignantly. "It wasn't like that! I wanted to, just - Ron saw the letter, and -"

"Weasley saw it?" Draco said, voice cold.

"Not the whole thing," she explained quickly. "Just the first part... Good thing you were vague... Now he thinks I have a friend around here struggling with - er - _orientation_ issues." When Draco raised an eyebrow, Hermione continued sheepishly. "Well I had to play it off somehow, didn't I? And believe me, I wish I'd come up with something more clever than that. You try convincing someone that they can't be recruited into - well, you know. I still don't think he believes me."

Draco had to smile a bit, in spite of himself. He enjoyed the idea of making Weasley uncomfortable. Then something dawned on him that wiped that smile away completely.

"You were with Weasley over the holiday?" he asked.

"Well, yes," Hermione said. "Harry and I stayed at the Burrow for the summer."

Shifting on his feet, Draco tried to push away the jealousy which had ignited at her words. He didn't know much about the Burrow, except that it sounded like a complete hovel, and as such he couldn't imagine there was much room for privacy. An image of Hermione sleeping peacefully beside Weasley and Potter filled Draco's head.

"They're like family," Hermione said.

Draco eyed her skeptically, but otherwise let it go, forcing that picture out of his mind.

"So why didn't you write, then?" he asked.

Hermione looked sad. She bit her lip and shuffled her feet - Draco tried not to feel endearment at the sight.

"Well, I had either Harry, or one Weasley or another, or a member of - well, there was just always _someone_ too close," she said. "That, and we had our hands full trying to plan, and..." Her eyes landed on his face again. "Oh _Merlin_ , you really don't want to be a - to be one of _them_ , do you?"

"No." Draco almost left it at that, but continued, almost unwillingly. "The ministry came for my father last month. It took them that long to make a case against him... If he weren't a Death Eater, then my mother wouldn't be alone right now, and he wouldn't be in Azkaban."

Before he knew it, Hermione had thrown her arms around Draco's shoulders, closing the gap between them. She pressed her face into his chest and squeezed him tightly.

An electric pulse ran through Draco's body at the sudden contact. Once the shock wore off, he set his arms carefully around her small shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he answered automatically. She wasn't moving away, she was still hanging on just as furiously as before, and it amazed him on some level. Draco had gone from thinking Hermione disliked him completely to having her lodged firmly in his arms, spewing apologies.

 _What a way to start the year_ , he thought, rubbing small circles into her back.

"Harry's on to you," Hermione whispered.

Draco paused.

"Is he, now?"

Hermione pulled away, and Draco fought the urge to drag her back in. She looked at him sternly.

"You need to be careful," she said. "I don't think there's time to talk much more now, but just know that he's suspicious. He - he followed you to Borgin and Burke's." Hermione cringed, leaving out that she had been present for that as well. "He doesn't know what exactly you're doing, just that you asked for repairs of some sort. Draco, what's going on?"

"I can't tell you," he said.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, but then nodded slowly.

"No... I don't suppose you can."

They fell into silence. Hermione wasn't looking up at him just now, but that was alright with Draco. It gave him a chance to really take her in; after the months apart, he'd forgotten just how thick and crazy her hair was, but for a long time now he'd known he wouldn't change it for anything. He'd also forgotten about the light smattering of freckles that brushed over her nose and cheeks, and how her eyes were actually quite gold in color.

Draco blinked. It would do no good to be caught staring dumbly.

"Ron might come back if I don't go," Hermione said quietly. "He can't know we're friends, he'd drive himself crazy with it. I don't know why he's like that."

"I can think of a few reasons," Draco said. "Is that what we are? 'Friends?'" He hated how vulnerable he felt, asking that, and the way Hermione smiled mischievously back at him didn't make him feel any better. She stepped up close.

"You tell me."

She was nearly touching him now, her face tilted up to look into his. Draco's chest tightened. Why did his tie always feel so damn tight when Hermione was around? He tugged it a bit looser.

"I don't know what we are," he said slowly, leaning down. "But we're not enemies anymore, and we're certainly not friends, either."

He bent down and kissed her, not nearly as deeply or for as long as he wanted, but it was enough. For now. When Hermione stepped back, her hand trailed down his left arm. She laid her palm against it, staring sadly.

"You will be okay, won't you?" she asked.

Draco felt his heart leap in his chest at the worry in her voice. He nodded. "I'll be fine. And I'll be careful."

Hermione smiled at him, though she didn't look convinced. Taking a deep breath, she quickly pulled him by his tie and reached up to peck him on the cheek. Then, blushing furiously, she opened the door and left. Draco watched her go regretfully, and slumped back into his seat; he hated making promises he couldn't keep.

...

As the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop, everyone began picking up their things and preparing to leave for the castle. Pansy and Blaise nudged Draco, waking him from a stupor that had gripped him for the last hour.

"You go on ahead," he said.

Blaise shrugged, and resumed his conversation with Pansy.

"And no, I wouldn't _ever_ fancy a blood-traitor like her..." he said, voice trailing off as the door shut. Draco didn't know who Blaise was talking about, but if he still had feelings for Luna Lovegood, then that was a filthy lie.

Not that it mattered.

Draco stood crouched over his trunk, fiddling with the lock on it. If it weren't for Hermione's warning, he might have been too distracted to notice that he wasn't alone in the compartment. No, Blaise's wrestle with the door earlier hadn't been accidental; someone had sneaked in.

He grasped the handle of his wand and swung it upward.

" _Petrificus totalus!_ "

At once a large bundle toppled from the luggage rack, landing in a heap on the floor. Potter, still curled up awkwardly, now had his invisibility cloak twisted underneath him.

"I thought so." Draco prodded Potter with his foot. "I thought I saw something after Blaise got back..."

He paused, thinking hard. While he wanted to take out years of anger on Harry Potter, he had to hold himself back. What would Hermione think if her best friend returned all battered and bruised? With her insane loyalty, Draco wasn't sure she'd ever forgive him.

Grinding his teeth together, Draco lowered his wand.

"You didn't hear anything important, Potter. Nothing I care about, anyway."

He reached down and yanked on the invisibility cloak. Cringing in restraint, and wanting very much to give Potter's ugly nose a good stomp, Draco instead swept the cloak back over him. Potter disappeared completely.

"This is for my father," Draco hissed. "Hopefully they find you back in London. But then again, maybe they won't."

There. That was sufficient payback... for now.

Draco opened the compartment door and stepped into the aisle, then glanced back. He shook his head.

"You should be thanking Merlin right now that you have the friends you do, Potter. Even when they're not around, it seems they still have your back."

He shut the door, and left.

* * *

 **A/N:** So this was a shorter chapter, but I felt like that was the right stopping point. Any further and we might dive into another huge chunk of story.

Firstly, I'd like to point out that I'm not against any kind of bi- or homosexuality, I just noticed that the beginning of Draco's note could be misconstrued like that ("It's happened. I'm one of them now, but I wish I wasn't") and Ron's discomfort seems in-character to me. Not that they ever touched on that topic in the books, but I can just picture Ron getting uncomfortable and not wanting to talk about it. So that's Hermione's workaround for keeping Ron out of her business.

Obviously, we're starting to get a little AU. Hermione's begun to have her affect on Draco, and while he's still got a lot of that bully inside him, he's getting better about it. Also, as far as AU goes, I wanted Lucius to stick around for the summer, so instead of getting caught straightaway at the Ministry last year, let's say witnesses placed him at the scene and then an inquiry took some time to nail him down. I will allude to this more later on, but thought I'd throw it out there now to smooth over any confusion.

Thank you for all of your reviewing! And special thanks to _porcelainann_ for recommending that I submit my work to a contest. That was a huge compliment. Unfortunately the fanfic contest at Inkkit is only for completed works, of which I have none. If any of you catch wind of something similar though, something I can submit Pre-Not to, please let me know! I think it would be really fun.

I think that's all for now - there are some loose ends in this chapter, but generally, if you find yourself questioning about something, I probably have a note to myself to clear that up later. Please leave a review, and if something does confuse you, let me know! You guys are awesome, and really keep me going.

Thanks,

PennyDreddful

*edit* Oh! I forgot to mention, as I was looking through the beginning chapters of HPB, there are so many times in which Harry blasts Draco and Hermione defends him. JK didn't mean it romantically, I'm sure, and I think that Hermione's mostly arguing for Harry's sake, but still. I was reading through and just loved how well that ties in with this story. Anyway.


	19. The Vanishing Cabinet

_A/N: I know that quidditch tryouts occurred after the first week of class, but I decided to push it back to the end of September. The team still had several weeks to practice after that, anyway. A few other moments are moved around as well - it's explained at the end-of-chapter Author's Note._

 **Chapter Eighteen: The Vanishing Cabinet**

September at Hogwarts was always an enjoyable time. The air was warm, not hot, with the crisp hints of autumn wafting by on occasion, and the students hadn't been living with one another for a long enough time to get annoyed with their dormmates yet. Young witches and wizards wandered outside to study, and the sky remained light until well into the evening. It was nice.

Draco loved autumn - it was his favorite season by far. He withered in heat (not to mention what the sun did to his delicate Malfoy complexion) despised the unending rain of spring, and didn't need to bundle up and trudge through snow either. Autumn was, by far, the best.

Too bad he was missing it entirely this year.

He slumped beside the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement, biting into a green apple. For hours now - it was Saturday - he'd been working tirelessly on the damn thing, and had little to show for it. It was time for a break.

Draco gave the cabinet a good kick of frustration, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Voldemort hadn't been content with Draco killing Dumbledore. No, of course not. He also demanded that Draco restore the vanishing cabinet on Hogwarts grounds, so that a successful link between the castle and Borgin and Burke's could be made. Draco was still in shock from hearing that the Death Eaters planned to raid Hogwarts by the end of the year.

 _There'll be killing,_ he thought. He rubbed his face. _I need to do something._

But what was there to do? Originally he thought he might delay his repairs on the cabinet, but the damn thing turned out to be almost entirely ruined to start with. So it would take a long time anyway, which was good. That was something, at least.

 _She - they - need to get out before then_ , Draco told himself. Not just the Golden Trio, but everyone. Was there a way to possibly evacuate the school?

Hermione's bright eyes filled his head. He needed to help them all, but she was the most important. She always was.

Draco tossed aside the core of his apple, then returned to the task at hand. He had several books strewn across the floor, all bearing the requirements of proper restorative spells - the great cabinet had been dropped once, it seemed, for the entire bottom half stood crookedly in splinters. He'd thought he could just fix it like a broken vase, only it turned out to be more complicated than that.

As Draco had learned, the vanishing cabinet was an inherently magical object. When it was damaged, the magic in it broke as well - as much was explained in _Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_ , which bore several penciled-in notes that reminded Draco of Hermione's neat script - and so Draco couldn't just mend the broken pieces, but had to literally return the cabinet to its past form. It was complicated magic, and consisted of weaving the wood splinters back together while simultaneously de-aging them to return the lost magic. Just an inch could take more than an hour.

Draco glanced at his watch. It was eight o'clock on a Saturday evening, and he should be outside with Blaise and Pansy going over Transfiguration homework. His stomach growled, reminding him to get something more substantial to eat first.

Shaking his head angrily, Draco stood and brushed himself off, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and headed out down the corridor.

So repairing the cabinet would take ages anyway, which was good, because he needed to think of a plan. He needed a way to get everyone safe, to tip them off somehow, without ever revealing himself. Not only that, but he needed Dumbledore to catch on and do something big, something that would obviously keep Draco from ever killing him.

He coughed a harsh laugh. _Like there won't be another terrible thing waiting after that_.

Fortunately, he had a somewhat decent idea to help deal with Dumbledore. A cursed necklace from his father's stores of ancient dark artifacts had been selected to perform the kill. It had been his mother's idea, surprisingly. She'd mailed it to him discreetly, first owling a letter to explain her plan, then instructions to receive the small package from the Astronomy Tower late one night. Draco had secretly been quite impressed with his mother for that. Upon further inspection, the necklace was exactly as dangerous as described.

It would kill, alright - or at least, it would have, before Draco got to it.

The trick was to modify it only slightly, so that the change would be untraceable. That project alone had cost Draco hours in the Restricted section of the library, but it had paid off. Now the necklace would give a good show, and very _nearly_ kill the wearer. But it wouldn't be fatal.

 _Now, to get it to Dumbledore..._

Draco was thinking about using a Hogsmeade weekend for the plant, and he knew he had to figure it out fast, but he dreaded it with every bone in his body. Firstly, there was the risk; he would be expelled, if not worse, if he botched the job and was found out. Secondly, there was more risk - the risk that Dumbledore would _actually_ be killed somehow, ensuring Voldemort's success. Both were daunting possibilities.

He rounded a bend in the corridor and scowled. Up ahead, clad in garish red quidditch robes to signify the Gryffindor house, stood one of Draco's least-favorite people.

"I mean, come _on_ ," announced Cormac McLaggen, speaking to a few of his friends. Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and Justin Finch-Fletchley were among them. "If my only competition's Weasley, then I'm a shoe-in for Keeper. The bloke won't know what hit him, not after try-outs."

Finnegan whistled lowly. "Ron'll take that one hard. He's been talking about playing on the team for years."

As the group passed by, a few of them glared at Draco. Draco sneered back, pulling out his wand and twirling it in his fingers. While they left around the corner, though, McLaggen said something else to catch Draco's attention.

"Well, I can't _totally_ ruin him, can I? Not if I'll need him to stick around and introduce me to his good pal Granger."

Draco froze. He backpedalled, trying to keep within earshot.

"Hermione? She's not bad and all, but isn't she a bit - er - _smart_ for you?"

The group laughed. Draco clenched his fists.

 _Damn right she's too smart for you. Don't even try it._

"You know, I think she is," McLaggen joked boastfully, "But she wouldn't be the first smart girl in my... Let's just say, _history_."

Draco felt a searing hatred rise up in his chest. His memory of seeing Pansy sobbing on the floor came to mind; then Pansy was Hermione, curled into herself, covering her eyes and bawling. He wanted to place a few select hexes on McLaggen, not all of them entirely forgiveable.

 _Isn't she a bit smart for you?_

If anything calmed Draco down, it was that question. Hermione Granger was many things, and possibly greatest of all of them, she was brilliant. She wouldn't fall for a wanker like McLaggen. She couldn't.

Clenching his teeth, Draco forced his pulse to slow down. It did no good to get all riled up now, when he couldn't do anything about it.

Straightening his suit jacket with a determined jerk, Draco continued on his path toward the kitchens, his head ducked.

 _Maybe I should talk to her. Warn her. She deserves to know, doesn't she? It was her they were talking about._

Draco loosened his tie. Classes had been in full-swing for a few weeks now, and aside from an occasional glance in the corridor, he'd had no contact with Hermione. Having Potter and Weasley - especially Weasley, these days - glued to her side didn't make it any easier.

 _Yeah. She deserves to know._

He felt a little better having made that decision. Quickly shedding anger in lieu of excitement at the thought of seeing Hermione again, Draco continued off on his way.

...

If only Draco hadn't dropped prefect duty, it would be much easier to catch Hermione at a convenient time. It was just a few days ago when he finally handed his badge over to Snape, having no interest in patrolling corridors and planning events in his precious little free time. Snape hadn't asked questions.

Except now, he didn't have easy access to the patrol schedule - and asking around seemed shifty. Draco didn't want anyone paying too much attention these days, anyway.

He paced by the lake for the third evening in a row. The weather wasn't bad, and if Hermione had told the truth last year, she really _did_ make rounds outside as well as in the castle itself. The sun had vanished beyond the horizon, and the sky was slowly draining of light and color.

Draco paused. Was that a silhouette up ahead, or just wishful thinking?

"Hullo?" he called, pulling out his wand.

"Draco?"

As Hermione came nearer, Draco had to wonder how it could be anyone else. Her wild hair had grown longer, and it tossed in the breeze, making her unmistakable. He smiled. It was still strange to hear her say his first name.

"Hermione."

She looked at him curiously, but smiled back.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"Hoping to run into you, actually," Draco answered honestly.

Hermione looked down, her cheeks filling with color.

"I heard you dropped prefect duty."

Draco nodded, and put his hands in his pockets. "Don't have time for any of this, these days," he said, motioning at Hermione and the way she'd come. "I almost wish I did, you know?"

"I don't." Hermione looked at him directly. "I'd _like_ to know, though. I'd like for you to tell me."

For a moment, it seemed all too easy to tell her everything. Draco could spill about the induction ceremony, the vanishing cabinet, the order to kill Dumbledore. He could unload all of it, and no longer be the only one carrying the weight.

His stomach dropped just as quickly. No, he couldn't tell her. Not any of those things.

At his silence, Hermione's gaze softened. "Why did you want to see me, then?"

"I need a reason?" he asked, slightly affronted. "I thought we'd gotten past that. At least, between you and I, I did."

"I guess I'm still not used to it," Hermione said.

"You're not alone, there," Draco said. "I still can't believe it myself."

At Hermione's questioning glance, Draco hurried on. "Not you - I believe it, about you - that you're not what I expected. It's just... You're still always around Potter and Weasley, and they're no different... Though I suppose I don't know why they should be."

"Of course I'm always around them, they're my friends." Hermione bristled slightly.

Draco raised his eyebrow. "Weasley especially, then?"

By the way she blushed even more furiously, he'd hit a sore topic.

"It's not like that," Hermione explained, "Ron's just more stressed than usual, and he's got quidditch tryouts in a few days. He needs support."

"Right," Draco said. "That's what he wants. _Support_."

"Say what you're really thinking, then," she snapped. "Enough of that Slytherin vaguery. It's tiresome."

Her tone of voice cut Draco down a notch. His self-confidence faltered, and an instinct to lash out rose to the surface. It was the same instinct that had led to calling Hermione a mudblood all those times.

"I just think Weasley wants more than some friendly support, that's all." Draco clenched his jaw. Was she blushing? "And by the look of it, you're more than ready to _provide_."

He regretted the words instantly, but couldn't bring himself to apologize. The logical part of his brain told him to do just that, but he ignored it.

Hermione, meanwhile, had fixed him with a shocked glare.

" _Excuse_ me?" she demanded.

Draco folded his arms across his chest, but said nothing.

 _It's not just Weasley,_ he thought, a leaden weight developing in his stomach. _It's her too. She fancies him._

"So you came out here every night this week, just to berate me for being a good _friend?_ " Hermione mirrored Draco's stance, crossing her arms.

"No," Draco spat. "I'll have you know I had perfectly honorable intentions. In fact, I - _wait_. You know..." His voice trailed off.

Hermione closed her eyes, angry for giving herself away.

"You've known?" Draco asked. "You've known I've been here each night, but you haven't said anything?"

She pursed her lips. "Well I wasn't always alone, so I didn't think it wise."

"You weren't?"

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I patrol with Padma usually, and she enjoys the fresh air as much as I do. And of course, I saw you on Monday, but I had Pansy waiting to patrol inside with me, and she can be quite - er," she paused, realizing her company, " _Impatient_. I think she'd come out after me if I ran late."

"Oh." Draco felt relieved. At least she wasn't taking nighttime strolls with Weasley now, too.

"Yes, _oh_ ," Hermione said. "Now really, what were your 'honorable intentions?'"

"To warn you about McLaggen." Draco pulled on his necktie. "I heard him talking about you. Not exactly _proper_ things." That part wasn't entirely true, but it didn't hurt Draco's case. "I think he's going to try to - I don't know, wheedle his _greasy_ way into -"

"Cormac McLaggen?" she asked. He nodded. "You don't think he's going to _attack_ me, do you?"

"No! _Merlin_ , no, the bastard wouldn't live another _day_ if he -"

"Then what are you worried about?"

Draco stopped, snapping his mouth shut. Hermione, calm as ever, arms still crossed, stared hard at him. His mouth felt dry.

"He's not a good person, Hermione."

"You know I'm not interested in Cormac, Draco." She raised an eyebrow. "And I think I can fend him off, thank you."

"Just be careful, okay?" Draco stepped toward her, looking down into her eyes. "He hurt Pansy pretty badly. I don't want him to do that to you -" Hermione groaned loudly, catching Draco off-guard.

"What do you _want_ , Draco? He's not going to attack me, he's going to _flirt_ with me. It'll be annoying at worst." She glared brightly. "And you know, Cormac deciding he fancies me doesn't mean anything's going to come of it. I get a say in that, too."

"And what will you say?" Draco asked. He felt almost desperate, just to hear it from Hermione's mouth.

' _No, I don't want anything to do with the disgusting prat.' That's what she should say._

"Don't be ridiculous. 'Thanks, no thanks' should do," she clipped simply. "Now, is that _really_ all you came out here to say?"

Draco shifted from foot to foot, looking at the ground. He didn't entirely understand her annoyance.

"I see," she said quietly, when Draco didn't answer. "Well... good night, then."

"Wait," Draco said.

Hermione turned back to him, though she looked incredibly nonplussed.

"I thought - you deserved to know, is all -"

"Maybe next time you sneak out to find me, you can tell me something worthwhile," she said quietly. "I don't care about the others, Draco. You can stop caring about the others, too, you know."

"It was _supposed_ to be worthwhile," he insisted. "Most people would be grateful for a tip-off, that's all."

"Won't you _listen_ , for once?" Hermione shook her head, turning back away slowly. "It's not the others I care about. None of them. So when you're willing to talk about something else, let me know."

Draco watched Hermione's small silhouette retreat into the growing shadows, not entirely sure where he went wrong.

...

The following Saturday, Gryffindor held their quidditch try-outs. As much as Draco didn't care, he knew that Hermione would attend, and probably not many others - try-outs didn't draw the same crowd that a match would. Feeling laughable and insecure, Draco paced below the bleachers, where no one else would see him.

 _And if anyone spots me, they'll think I'm spying for Slytherin_ , he decided. It wasn't a terrible alibi.

He watched between the slats of the bleachers as a group of fifteen-or-so robed individuals walked onto the pitch, each grasping a broom. Potter, predictably, led them; less predictably, Ginny Weasley walked at his side, very closely.

 _Wouldn't that be a pair?_ Draco thought, smirking.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of students stepping onto the bleachers. He scanned the few people and quickly found Hermione. Her hair had been clipped out of her face, which was flushed pink in the late-September chill, and a thick scarf was wound around her neck.

She eyed a group of girls disdainfully - Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, and Parvati Patil, if Draco wasn't mistaken - before walking some distance away and sitting by herself. Immediately she wrapped her arms around her torso, shivering.

In a different world, Draco could be up there with her. In a world without Voldemort, it would be safe, albeit unconventional, for a pureblood to date a muggle-born. For a pureblood to sit with his muggle-born girlfriend, and put an arm around her when she was cold.

But this wasn't that world. Not even close.

Initially he'd planned on trying to talk to her, but then he saw Weasley - Ron Weasley - wave from the pitch, and Draco caught himself spying instead. Hermione waved enthusiastically. Which was fine. They were friends.

Then, also out on the pitch, McLaggen removed himself from the throng of hopefuls. He stood broad-chested and tall, with definitely more of a manly physique than Weasley (or Draco) and he winked in Hermione's direction.

Draco watched Hermione carefully for her response. Instead of acknowledging him in any way, she merely turned her head, blowing him off.

 _Good girl,_ Draco thought. Maybe he didn't have anything to worry about, after all.

Once the try-outs got underway, Draco actually found himself getting distracted and watching them. It was quite entertaining. Ron Weasley clung awkwardly to his broom, making only the most basic saves as the seekers threw the quaffle at the hoops. He wasn't ready to make the team, that was for sure. Then McLaggen stepped up, and Draco got nervous. The bloke was a total git, but he held his own on a broom.

McLaggen proceeded to make quite a show of himself. He saved every quaffle thrown his way, even the ones Draco knew would be quite difficult to tackle. And he did it with none of the awkwardness they'd seen from Ron Weasley. McLaggen was a shoe-in for keeper.

" _Confundus_ ," whispered Hermione. Draco glanced over to see that she'd discreetly brandished her wand. When he looked back to McLaggen, he'd fumbled terribly on his broom and missed a particularly easy goal.

Draco's jaw dropped. " _Merlin_..."

He clapped a hand over his mouth and backed away quickly. He could see Hermione turn, worry and suspicion on her face. After a long moment, she returned to watching the pitch.

What was she doing, protecting Weasley like that? And so _dangerously?_ A confundus charm could unseat a player from his broom entirely, and from that height, the fall could be fatal.

Doubt bit at him. Why would she do that, if she really did think of Weasley as just a friend?

Having seen enough, Draco stalked off, deciding he'd wasted enough time for one day.

...

While it came as no surprise, the Gryffindor team captains being biased as they were, Ron Weasley did in fact make Keeper that year. He wouldn't have if it weren't for Hermione, not that he probably knew it.

Draco tried his best to ignore the quidditch talk that went around Hogwarts, but after a certain point it wasn't worth the effort. Pansy, having discovered Weasley's success (and having seen his poor skills in action) quickly devised a scathing song titled "Weasley is Our King." It swept through the Slytherin house like wildfire. With little reluctance, Draco found himself singing along with the best of them. After all, he needed to vent a little. He hadn't spoken with Hermione in the weeks since try-outs, and he let himself blame Weasley for that. He was once again dragging Hermione into trouble, hexing quidditch players and whatnot.

While everyone else hurried off to watch the first match of the year, Draco slipped quietly away to the Room of Requirement. He had no interest in watching Hermione cheer on her best "friend," and besides that, he had work to do.

He was quite shocked to find out, hours later, that Gryffindor had won the match.

Draco resurfaced from the room during lunch, feeling quite knackered and ready to have Weasley's great failure regaled by Pansy and Blaise. He needed a laugh.

So when he found his friends sitting at their table, eating rather quietly, he knew something wasn't quite right. Then he heard the tell-tale raucous cheers of Gryffindor approaching the hall.

"WEASLEY IS OUR KING!" a chorus of voices shouted. "HE DIDN'T LET THE QUAFFLE IN!"

A burst of color filled the Great Hall as the entire Gryffindor quidditch team, and the rest of their house, filed in for their victory meal. Finnegan and Thomas had hoisted Ron Weasley onto their shoulders, even.

Draco sneered at the display. Gryffindors were so obnoxious.

He sunk onto the bench beside Blaise, who was also casting a blank stare across the hall. None of his friends seemed amused; Pansy pouted playfully to Theo, who gave her a gentle shove.

 _At least some of us can still enjoy ourselves_ , Draco thought, watching them. He scanned over the crowd of Gryffindors again as they shuffled over and found their seats.

Weasley didn't seem to notice, but Lavender Brown clung to his side like a limpet. Draco snorted at how desperate she looked. On Ron's other side, Hermione glared over at Lavender.

Draco's gaze hardened. He knew he should look away, but he couldn't.

Then, out of nowhere, McLaggen approached Weasley, extending his hand in congratulations. Draco's eyes narrowed further as he watched this interaction. The two Gryffindors seemed a bit stiff, but friendly enough, until McLaggen gestured toward Hermione.

Draco leaned forward in his seat.

Ron shrugged, clapping Hermione on the back - she didn't seem to like that - and pushed her forward. She timidly extended a hand to McLaggen, who took it gently.

 _No_.

Hermione glanced back at Ron while McLaggen spoke to her. Ron looked quite entertained now by Lavender. Hermione's jaw clenched before she smiled at McLaggen, nodding.

 _No, no, no..._

Unable to watch any more, Draco stood. He'd lost his appetite anyway. Without a word to his friends, he strode directly out of the Great Hall, feeling like something valuable had just slipped through his fingers.

Hermione noticed when Draco stood, and she watched as he ducked his head and walked quickly away. Guilt and frustration washed over her. Really, why must _she_ feel guilty? After all, she could only be so certain that Draco or Ron cared about her. What was a snog, or a long-held glance across a room? If any of them really cared, they wouldn't be too damn ashamed to show it in public.

That thought wrenched her gut. She hated that Draco was ashamed of her. It hurt almost more than being called a mudblood.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, Hermione's being kind of wishy-washy, but hopefully I keyed you guys in just enough toward the end there to understand why. I don't want to spell out everything for you very obviously - one of my biggest goals in writing is to stop telling my readers "this and this because this" but to instead _show_ you what's happening through character interactions. Please let me know when I'm being too vague or too obvious.

I realize that the "Weasley Is Our King" victory happens at the end of sixth year, but for the purposes of this story, it gives us more to work with now. Toward the end of the year, there's plenty to keep the plot afloat. I'm sorry if that confused you.

To my reviewers: you are wonderful. Thank you for your feedback. I try very hard to incorporate it into my writing, so you can take more of an active seat in this story. A few shoutouts to _hpfan addict, Musicangel913, Misha Young, hoshiakari7,_ and _viola1701e_ for being especially consistent or prolific in your reviews. And a few good questions were posed by _EssTheWriter:_

 _Is Dramione the end game in this fic? Or will it end in canon?_ I don't want to reveal too much, but this story will not end in canon. I think it's realistic for Hermione to be distracted by Ron, especially when she thinks she can't rely on Draco to make anything concrete happen (she doesn't see them moving forward as a relationship, and she's old enough now to really seek that) but Hermione/Ron isn't going to happen.

 _How long is this fic in terms of chapters?_ Excellent question. I estimate that we're about 1/3 of the way there, but it's hard to say. I see this fic ending around the last battle, but when I sit down to write, things just kind of happen. This entire chapter wasn't actually planned, it just led into itself. So we'll have some twists and turns, but I see Pre-Not reaching about 50-60 chapters.

Hopefully that answered some questions for all of you. Anyway, thanks for your reviews! They mean too much.

PennyDreddful

P.S. Bonus points to whoever finds the easter egg in this chapter! ;)


	20. Blaise's Helping Hand

**Chapter Nineteen: Blaise's Helping Hand**

Draco moped through the next few weeks, disappearing for hours on end to Merlin-knows-where and resurfacing only for meals and class. Blaise quickly found Draco's antics tiresome and was glad to avoid him whenever possible.

Blaise understood that Draco had a lot on his shoulders right now; the trouble was that their friendship had practically ended because of it. He hadn't heard from Draco through the entire second half of summer (and neither had Pansy) and once at school, Draco had remained totally aloof. They only spoke about homework or the house cup or Pansy's new relationship with Theo - though Blaise felt sure that Draco never really listened.

So now Blaise sat on the leather sofa in the common room, drumming his fingers on the arm of it and staring at the fire. Pansy had been sitting with him, doing homework, until Theo showed up. Now the sandy-blond perched beside her, arm around her shoulders, and held her entire attention.

 _Annoying, but I suppose it's healthy, what they have._ Blaise rolled his eyes when Theo told a dumb joke that sent Pansy into a fit of giggles.

Standing quickly, Blaise straightened his shirt, and left the common room.

It was a Thursday evening, and not so late that the prefects were patrolling, so taking a stroll around the castle would leave him mostly undisturbed for the next hour or so. Blaise stuck his hands in his pockets, ducked his head, and began wandering aimlessly through the corridors.

He wished Draco wasn't suddenly M.I.A. all the time. It didn't help that when Blaise looked at his friend, he could tell easily how worn-down he'd become. These days, Draco's face was ashen with stress, his eyes always a little pink like he hadn't slept well the night before. Blaise could hear him tossing and turning every evening.

If there was any consolation for losing his best friend, it was that this year, Blaise had hardly any free time anyway. His off-hours quickly filled with studying (Mr. Zabini now expected only perfect scores) and then attending Professor Slughorn's dull parties. He wished he could take Draco or Pansy to these, but it wouldn't be proper.

Still... While the parties were dull, they did provide an opportunity to study some of Hogwarts' most interesting students.

For instance, there was Ginny Weasley; Blaise wondered when the girl would finally get Potter tied down and properly dating. Any time the two were near one another, the mutual attraction became painfully obvious. Not that Potter had come to any of the parties quite yet - but he couldn't avoid them forever, not with Slughorn constantly vying for his attention.

Going back to Ginny Weasley, though... Blaise supposed that, under different circumstances, and had he known her better, he'd probably fancy her himself. She was strong, capable, smart, had a fiery temper, and was really quite lovely to look at. That temper surfaced easily and made her passionate.

But she wasn't Luna.

Aside from Ginny, Blaise spent most of his time at these galas studying Hermione Granger. Slughorn took great interest in Hermione's muggle parentage, and usually had her going on about some muggle thing or another. Blaise, having been raised in an entirely-pureblood family, found the conversation intriguing. He actually felt badly for muggles, that instead of repairing their teeth with a simple potion or spell, they had to dedicate entire career paths to - what was it - dentissery?

Blaise shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. Strange.

He went up a flight of stairs to the main level, and the temperature rose with him, thankfully. Wearing simple trousers and a button-up was fine, but in the dungeons mid-October? Not terribly smart.

"Hello, Blaise."

Blaise froze. Just ahead, perched on a windowsill with a book open in her lap, sat Luna. He'd seen her there once in passing, and had since taken to walking by every now and then, but until tonight it hadn't paid off.

"Hi, Luna." He couldn't think of anything else to say. His palms suddenly felt very sweaty.

She wore red pants and a blue striped shirt, with only polka-dotted socks on her feet. Her wild blonde hair (which Blaise secretly loved) hung in a loose plait over one shoulder.

"Most people are in their common-rooms for the night," she said idly, a small smile on her face. "I came out to find my shoes, but found a book to read instead. You have your shoes on, so I don't suppose that's why you're out."

Blaise had to smile in spite of himself. Luna never spoke like the other girls he knew - jaded and jealous - but had this air of unending curiosity. He'd always been drawn to that.

"No, I'm just out for a walk," he said. Then, clearing his throat nervously, "You could join me?"

Luna hopped easily off of the windowsill, snapping her book shut with a puff of dust.

"Walking sounds nice," she said. "Besides, I think the blibbering humdingers won't be able to keep up."

It was one of those nonsensical things she always spouted, the things that equally gripped Blaise's full attention as well as made him want to abruptly change subject. How could a Ravenclaw - not only that, but a _brilliant_ one - believe in such silly things? Not that Blaise could ask just that, though he wanted to.

"What are you reading?" he asked instead.

"It's quite interesting, actually," Luna said, holding the book up. It looked old and worn, and Blaise couldn't read the title, it was so badly faded. "It's all about dark magical artifacts, and how to create them. I found it laying on the floor."

"On the floor? And you picked it _up?_ " Blaise stopped in his tracks. He remembered Draco telling him about what _really_ happened in their second year. It had all come down to a book. "It could be dangerous. Who would just leave it laying around, anyway?"

"We could always find out." Luna opened the front cover, unperturbed by Blaise's worry. "'Hogwarts Library: Restricted Section.'"

A bad feeling began creeping over Blaise's skin. Despite his curiosity, he wanted to toss the damn thing and move Luna's attention on to something else - this was their first real conversation, anyway.

She began drifting down the corridor, tucking the book under her arm.

"I don't suppose a proper Ravenclaw can resist an unanswered question," Blaise said.

Luna smiled at him. "Unlike a proper _Slytherin_. You fancy me, don't you?"

While Blaise stopped short in the corridor, something like fear gripping him - oh bollocks, why did girls always say the most uncomfortable things? - Luna continued drifting along her way.

"You followed us to the Department of Mysteries, which was really quite brave, and then you only helped me. I wasn't actually unconscious, you know, not while you were there. Not like Hermione. Has Draco told her, yet?"

Blaise swallowed. He began walking again. "Not about that night, no. I don't think so."

Luna nodded serenely. "For a long time, I thought I was terribly clumsy. Maybe I am. But I'm not clumsy enough to walk into a suit of armor."

"W-what are you talking about?"

Luna turned around and cast her big, calm eyes on Blaise. That small smile never left her face. "It's okay. I know you meant well."

She looked at him for a moment longer, then slowly spun and continued walking. They ascended a set of stairs before turning down the corridor that led to the library.

Blaise reeled. All this time, had she known? Had he been too obvious? And what did she actually think of it?

What did she think of _him?_

He nearly walked into Luna as she opened the library door for him. Shaking his head, he tried to regain focus.

Perched at her desk, and wearing a magnificent scowl as usual, Madam Pince eyed the pair over her glasses. She glanced at the clock pointedly, as though to say "I'm finished dealing with you miscreants for the day, so get out."

"Excuse me, Madame Pince?" Luna set the book lightly on Pince's desk. "We were wondering if you could tell us who checked out this book."

Pince raised and eyebrow before examining the dusty tome. She reached a hand out and flicked open the cover using one exceptionally long nail. Her scowl deepened.

"Restricted Section, I remember," she clipped. "Its owner lost it, did he?"

Blaise glanced at Luna uncertainly.

"It's important for class," she said. "I'm sure Professor Snape could explain it very well, we can go get -"

"No, no," Pince cut in. She slid the book away distastefully. "I see you're in Slytherin, boy. Luckily for Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure you can get it back to him quite easily."

Blinking, Blaise reached out. Pince slapped the book, leaning forward.

"Tell him not to lose it, this time."

With that final warning, she let go, and Blaise and Luna could escape. Blaise clutched the book to his chest, in a daze.

It was Draco's?

No matter what Luna had said, the book didn't pertain to anything Snape was teaching at the moment. They hadn't touched on dark artifacts all year. Was this - was _this_ what Draco spent all his time doing? Creating dark artifacts?

 _Bloody hell, mate. You're in deep now._

When Blaise finally shook himself out of his thoughts, he became aware of Luna's curious gaze, which was once again studying him carefully. He started off, but quickly realized he wasn't sure where to go next.

"You're conflicted," she said.

"He's my friend," Blaise blurted out. "I just - I just didn't know. I should have known, but I didn't."

"Go find him," Luna said. She smiled. "He's in the come-and-go room most of the time, I think."

"How do you know that?"

"I spend a lot of time looking around for my things," Luna explained, not unhappily. "They are often misplaced about the castle. I don't think Draco really sees me. He walks by sometimes, but he's always somewhere else."

Blaise tried to make sense of it, but Luna didn't give him much of a chance. She quickly reached over and planted a small kiss on his cheek, just like she had on the train - Blaise stiffened, not expecting it.

"You're a good friend," she said, as if that explained it all. Then Luna turned and began meandering her way down the corridor.

Blaise touched his cheek. He really wasn't sure what she had meant at all.

...

Draco slumped against the vanishing cabinet, utterly mentally exhausted. He still had an essay due for Herbology, too, which he hadn't even started. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to reason with himself, to convince himself once again that he had to deliver the necklace _this_ Saturday -

"Hey, mate."

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. He leapt to his feet, whirled his wand about, and managed to knock into a nearby shelf in his shock.

To find Blaise standing there, lazily examining the room of requirement while several vases and jars crashed to the floor, was the last thing Draco expected. They stared at one another, Draco looking half-crazed, as the tinkling of shattered glass echoed about the room. If either boy looked down, they'd find their own shoes peppered with tiny shards; neither of them broke eye contact.

 _How the hell did he find me?_ Draco reeled. His pulse had begun to slow back down, but the nervousness remained.

Finally, Blaise glanced only briefly at Draco's outstretched hand; when Draco realized he still aimed his wand at his friend, he quickly lowered it. Draco cleared his throat.

"You found me, I guess."

To his surprise, Blaise didn't speak, but merely raised a large old book - did he have that a second ago? - and dropped it onto the glass-covered floor.

Draco stared at the book, his face pale.

"You're either going to tell me what that is," Blaise said firmly, "Or we're done."

"Where did you get it?"

"It was found laying on the floor, in the middle of a bloody _corridor_. Anyone could have it by now. Anyone could know you're reading up on _creating dark artifacts._ "

Slowly, so slowly that he might have been melting, Draco sank against the cabinet. He slid down to the floor, pausing with a frown to whisk away the mess he'd made, then let his head fall back.

"I'm not _creating_ anything," he said honestly.

Blaise eyed his friend skeptically, but lowered himself to sit on the floor as well.

"You know I'm a Death Eater now," Draco said, "But you don't know what He's making me do. You don't know the things I've seen, Blaise. You don't know what I've _seen_ will happen to me - to my mother - if I don't -" he cut himself off, drawing his knees up and burying his face in his arms.

"You need to tell me," Blaise pushed.

"It's not _safe,_ " Draco hissed.

"It's not safe if you _don't._ "

This seemed to hit home, because a shudder went through Draco's body, but he didn't argue. Blaise felt a mounting disgust at Voldemort and his followers. Disgust at them for turning his friend, just a _kid_ , into this.

Draco drew in a long breath, seemingly decided.

And he told Blaise everything.

...

Only a few days later, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, Blaise spent his Hogsmeade trip skulking around The Three Broomsticks, trying not to draw attention to himself. At first he sat with Pansy and Theo and shared a gillywater, but soon they left, and Blaise was alone.

Students, especially the upper-years, filed in and out of the bustling establishment. Blaise leaned casually against a pillar near the entrance, occasionally examining his nails.

"Waiting for someone?" asked Madam Rosmerta warmly. Everywhere she went, eyes followed - namely, eyes belonging to the males in the establishment - so Blaise's anxiety mounted at having her near before she should be.

"Yes."

She paused, her smile a bit tight, but nodded and continued on. Her tray had become filled with dirty glasses anyway, so she slipped behind the bar to dispose of them.

Blaise blew out a breath he'd been holding. He didn't like this business, not a bit.

When Draco had come clean the other day, the two friends sat together for hours in that cluttered room. For the most part Blaise didn't know what to say; how could Voldemort expect Draco to kill Dumbledore? It was like he _wanted_ Draco to fail...

... Which he probably did, but Blaise wouldn't add _that_ to Draco's long list of troubles.

As much as Blaise wanted nothing to do with it all, he couldn't leave his friend alone in this. Blaise hadn't needed to think very long before deciding to help Draco with his tasks, however he could - which would include trying to think up ways to foil Voldemort's planned raid. At least there was that.

 _Only that, and plotting some murder_ , Blaise thought sourly. The reality of the situation hadn't sunk in until this morning, after he'd trudged up to Hogsmeade alone, carrying a small package. As per the plan.

He could slap himself right now for having suggested that _he_ be the one to deliver. For explaining that _Draco_ should stay far away from this, since Potter had already been circulating suspicions.

 _Speaking of Potter..._

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING -"

A shout cut across the bar, and Blaise looked over to see Potter wrestling with Mundungus Fletcher, who he recognized only from one or two interactions he'd had with Blaise's father. The moment Potter yelled, however, Fletcher vanished with a _crack._

Blaise saw everyone turning the other direction, and instead of wondering about Potter's little skirmish, he raised his wand.

" _Imperio_."

He'd practiced on a spider, much like Professor Moody had done during fourth year, but it had still taken ages to muster up the sheer will it took to control another being. In fact, Blaise caught even himself off-guard when Rosmerta, his intended target, stopped walking. He hadn't planned on Potter creating a diversion. To be honest, Blaise had expected it to take multiple tries, and he had a pocket full of appropriate Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to provide as many distractions.

 _Good. Walk over here._

A conflicted look crossed Rosmerta's pretty face, and she didn't move. The now-empty tray in her hands trembled.

Blaise concentrated harder. _You WILL walk over here, and you WILL stick this package under your tray._

Immediately the woman came over, her eyes cloudy. Blaise nonchalantly removed a thin, foot-long package from under his cloak, which Rosmerta took easily in hand. She concealed it just as easily.

 _You will go into the ladies' room, and wait for a Hogwarts student_.

At his command, Rosmerta did just as she was told.

The next part was tricky; on a spider, one couldn't exactly practice _imperiusing_ someone to cast a spell. Blaise grit his teeth, mustering all his focus. An odd sensation came over him once Rosmerta was out of view; he felt a kind of awareness, something he couldn't entirely describe. He just knew that someone, an older student, was in the loo as well.

 _You will_ imperius _the girl to take the package to Dumbledore_.

It worked, but not as Blaise expected. Rosmerta removed her wand and cast the spell, yet no secondary awareness came this time. Blaise supposed that this echo of magic must be weaker. Perhaps it was only enough to plant the _idea_ in the girl's mind.

Still, it worked.

Katie Bell came out of the loo, clutching the package, and Blaise didn't look at her. Bell joined her friend, a girl named Leanne, who'd been waiting at the front door. Leanne gave her friend a strange, curious look, but they continued out together.

Blaise wanted to sigh in relief, but his job wasn't done yet. He still needed to wipe Rosmerta's memory. Pausing to let Potter, Weasley, and Hermione Granger past (Potter still seethed with anger, though Hermione gave Blaise an uncertain smile) Blaise strode over toward the restrooms.

 _You will open the door._

Within the second, the door to the ladies' room popped open. Blaise aimed his wand discreetly once again.

" _Obliviate._ "

He made sure to turn and walk away before Rosmerta could shake herself into awareness. By the time she came-to, Blaise had reached the door, and exited the pub.

 _Azkaban, here I come,_ he thought. Blaise pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, preparing for the long trudge back to school, but stopped short immediately.

Up ahead, Katie Bell floated six feet in the air, her hair drifting about eerily, and she was screaming.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, a chapter that's all about Blaise (and it's title an homage to chapter eleven of HBP) and I hope you enjoyed it. I don't plan to commit entire chapters to the perspective of other characters often, but with all the conflict and detachment Draco must be feeling right now, I liked the idea of doing something different. Something conflicted and detached. Besides, some of you requested that we see more about Blaise and Pansy, so I (partially) delivered.

Thank-you's all around for your reviews so far! Thank you especially to _hpfan addict_ for your candor and providing a fresh perspective. Thank you, also, to _somnusverus_ \- yes I am totally conceited and I google my story occasionally, so to see that you'd recommended my fic on Tumblr was a HUGE compliment.

As for the easter egg in the last chapter: you guys had some good guesses, but I think I was too vague for you! I was referring to Draco thinking "that neat handwriting reminds me of Hermione's" while reading from _Eighteenth-Century Charms_. In GoF, Hermione actually uses that book to help Harry prepare for a task, so Draco really _was_ reading Hermione's notes. Anyway. Fun Fact.

Please leave a review and let me know what your thoughts are on the story so far! I welcome criticism. It helps me make it better. I actually have a few revisions to go through and do already - nothing major, just adding a line here or there to make some things clearer.

Love you guys!

Penny


	21. The Fallout

**Chapter Twenty: The Fallout**

Draco paced anxiously in the Room of Requirement, not sure when Blaise would return from Hogsmeade. He'd been on his feet, shuffling around, for an hour now. The vanishing cabinet still needed repairing, but today it stood alone, forgotten, with Draco's notes and a few books scattered at its base.

 _I shouldn't have let him do it,_ Draco thought _. What if he mucks it up? What if he gets caught?_

A startling image of Blaise, locked behind bars at Azkaban prison, overcame Draco. He groaned, kneading his hands together.

He'd planned for months. There were measures taken to ensure success and anonimity. The plan really _shouldn't_ fail; so why did this painful foreboding fill Draco's head?

 _I should've been the one in Hogsmeade. Blaise should be in the common room right now, drinking cocoa and getting beaten at wizard's chess by Theo... Not out there, with a cursed necklace up his sleeve..._

Then, another excruciating doubt came to mind: what if Draco's tampering with the necklace had failed? What if he'd actually done something worse to it, and it could somehow backfire? Or what if it would still kill the next person to touch it?

Draco threw himself at the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on his haunches, trying to reign in his fright. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Nothing, short of standing in Voldemort's own presence, had ever caused him this much stress.

He heard the rattle of a door handle turning, followed by footsteps. Blaise appeared from around a stack of broken furniture, his face stony.

Fear seemed to freeze over Draco's entire body. This was it. They were done for.

Blaise opened his mouth, but it took a moment before he could get out any words.

"It didn't kill anybody," he began. "But Katie Bell, the Gryffindor chaser, has been sent to St. Mungo's."

Draco looked down, trying to find his voice.

"What happened?"

"Her friend Leanne asked too many questions," Blaise explained. "They got in a quarrel over it, I think. I wasn't there. I just saw her - she was in the air, Draco - and Leanne and Potter and the others managed to pull her down, but -"

"'Potter and the others?'" Draco's head snapped up. "Who?"

"Weasley - er, Ron Weasley - and Hermione."

 _Hermione_. Her name hit like a brick.

"She didn't touch it, did she?"

"No, mate." Blaise swallowed. "Hagrid got them all away. He carried Katie back to the castle, and made sure no one touched anything but the wrapping. They got back just when I did."

Draco breathed out slowly. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Are you alright?"

Blaise nodded. "I will be."

They fell silent.

So that was that. Dumbledore would know, now. They all would. And Potter would no doubt be singing out his suspicions of Draco Malfoy, making sure everyone knew who'd done it.

"Did anyone see you?" he asked.

"I was around the pub, yeah," Blaise answered. "But no. I made sure it went smoothly. I was careful."

As much as Draco wanted to grill his friend further on the topic, he knew it wouldn't do any good. Blaise was already proven to be quite powerful, and he was highly clever as well. If Draco could place his trust in anyone, it was Blaise.

He gave a short nod of acceptance.

Blaise rubbed at his face tiredly. "Look, mate... I'm headed downstairs. I might turn in early - tell Pansy I had one too many firewhiskeys, or something." He surveyed his still-crouching friend worriedly. "You should think about doing the same. Some rest would do you good."

He waited for a response, but none came, and so Blaise turned and retreated slowly out of the room. Draco heard the door click shut.

Sprawling helplessly on the cold stone floor, Draco closed his eyes. Maybe Azkaban wouldn't be so bad. After all, what were a couple dementors compared to the unforgiving wrath of Lord Voldemort?

...

Later that evening, when Draco emerged hungry and sore from his stint in the room of requirement, he trudged defeatedly toward the dungeons. He half-expected McGonagall or Dumbledore himself to pop up and interrogate him; despite Draco's concern, though, no one bothered. The few students he passed by didn't even spare him a glance, aside from a mousy second-year girl who smiled shyly in his direction.

He swung by the great hall in case dinner might still be underway - he had no idea what time it was - but the cavernous room stood empty. Draco's stomach growled, yet he felt nauseous from stress.

Slinking down the stairs to the dungeons, Draco tried to dust off his trousers and make himself look presentable. Then a hand shot out from the nearest broom cupboard, grasped a handful of his shirt, and yanked him inside.

" _Oy!_ " Draco yelped, stumbling into sudden darkness as the door closed.

" _Shh!_ Snape's not far off -"

A wave of relief came over Draco as he recognized that voice.

" _Lumos_ ," Hermione whispered, and there, only a foot away, the tip of her wand lit with a soft glow. It illuminated her face, which was screwed up in concentration. Footsteps sounded outside the door. They stopped. Then they started up again, slower than before, and gradually faded away.

"Haven't you heard of _muffliato?_ " Draco asked.

Hermione glared at him. "Did you do it?"

Her accusatory tone caught Draco off-guard. He brushed back his (admittedly unwashed) hair.

"Do what?"

"Don't. Harry is absolutely _convinced_ it was you."

"I -" Draco was about to claim ignorance, but stopped himself. "If you're talking about Katie Bell, then yes. I suppose that was my fault."

"Of _course_ I'm talking about Katie Bell!" Hermione hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest. "The whole castle's heard by now! She's in St. Mungo's, who knows if she'll even recover. You nearly _killed_ her, Draco! And I _defended_ you - I told Harry you wouldn't possibly -" she cut herself off, rubbing her face in frustration. "Don't tell me Voldemort asked you to get rid of a seventh-year girl!"

"It wasn't meant for her."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "No. It was for Dumbledore, wasn't it?"

Draco didn't respond.

"She was in a hurry to get back to the castle, and who here would Voldemort most want to get rid of? Aside from Harry."

"Is there a reason why we're in a broom closet right now?" Draco asked, exhausted of this subject. "I can think of _far_ more comfortable places to interrogate someone."

"Comfort isn't always an affordable luxury," Hermione snapped. "Besides, everyone who's acting oddly right now is suspect. I couldn't exactly be seen wandering around the dungeons, could I?"

"Then keep out of the dungeons."

Hermione fell silent, staring at Draco in surprise. He wasn't even sure why he said it - he wanted her there, he _wanted_ her to keep nearby... But look what happened to people who got close. After all, Hermione was there at The Three Broomsticks. What if she'd touched the necklace instead of Katie?

Draco shuddered.

"You don't mean that." Hermione suddenly looked very unsure of herself. She pulled her robes close, lowering her wand.

"No," Draco said, "But it would be better. You know it would. I don't _want_ this, not any of it - but he won't let me stop. It's dangerous."

"There's always a way, Draco -"

"Oh, come off it," he said, rolling his eyes. "You know there isn't. This isn't some little club I've gotten tired of. This is Death Eaters. This is fucking _Voldemort_. There is no way out."

"So you'll just blindly obey, then?"

"No, I'll just need to be _smart_. And defying him outright would be deadly. _Failing_ him might even be worse."

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly unhappy. What did she expect?

Draco shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space. The handle of a broom poked him in the back, but if he stepped forward he'd be staring down his nose at Hermione. Before, all he'd wanted was to be this close - now it just made him angry.

"What right do you have, anyway?" he said suddenly. "You drag me in here and spew your accusations, try to tell me I can make it out, but where were you months ago? Where were you when I needed some bloody _help?_ "

Hermione went stiff. "I told you, it wasn't -"

"No. Two months, Hermione. I went on a bloody limb and _asked_ you - should I have begged, maybe?" Draco saw the way her expression changed, falling quickly from anger to worry, but he didn't stop. "In _two months,_ you really never had the time to write a quick 'sorry, been busy, get back to you later?'"

She looked down, her eyes sparkling. Draco had never seen Hermione Granger look ashamed, but here it was. She sniffed.

"Don't judge me," he growled. "Don't you _dare_ judge me, Hermione. It could have been different. But it's not."

"It wasn't that simple, Draco," she said quietly. "I wanted to - but -"

"But what?"

Hermione looked up. "But it took a lot more effort than I expected not to hate you."

Those last two words dropped like stones in the pit of Draco's stomach. She'd just reaffirmed his fears from the summer, the fears she'd managed to dispel back on the Hogwarts Express.

"I don't hate you, Draco," she continued quickly, "I promise. Not a bit. I'm... Mad. I'm angry with you, but I'm scared for you too. There _has_ to be another way."

"There isn't," he said.

She didn't argue further.

While Draco tried to fend off overwhelming resignation, Hermione shivered. Her magic flickered.

"He'll kill my mother if I step out of line," Draco said quietly. Hermione's gaze went soft. "Not immediately, mind you. I've seen him do it - kill, torture - he casts out punishments and rewards at the same time, you know. Whenever a faithful servant's done well, Voldemort makes sure to give his praise alongside a good show against someone else. Keeps things balanced, that way. Peter Pettigrew - Wormtail, he calls himself - he stares at her. He's not the only one, but he's at least been faithful to Voldemort. So if I fail..." he couldn't finish. He'd spent enough time trying not to think of the reality of this particular situation. "Don't hate me. I think I hate myself enough for the both of us, I just don't see any way around it."

Instead of replying, Hermione reached out her hand, finding his in the shadows of their broom cupboard. When she grasped it, fingers icy, Draco was shaking.

"I didn't know, Draco."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you think... Is there a way I can help you, now?"

Draco carefully considered this. It had been enough of a risk to let Blaise in, he couldn't possibly include anyone else. He felt a bit better now that she'd offered, though.

"I don't know," he said carefully, "Can I think about it?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but instead of trying to convince him, she merely nodded. It would have to do, for now.

Draco glanced down at their hands. "You're freezing."

"Yes, well... Next time I sneak through the dungeons, I'll bring some gloves."

They smiled at each other, though it felt a little strained. It would take more time to forgive one another, but at least for now, they could move on.

"Draco?"

When he looked up, he found Hermione's big golden eyes uncertain and imploring.

"Yeah?"

"You... you fancy me, don't you?"

His pulse picked up. For some reason, questions like that always made Draco nervous - he thought that by now he'd have his emotions in check, but apparently not.

He tried not to let his voice waver when he answered. "Yes, I do."

Hermione smiled, but looked uncertain again. "It's just - well, I know what our friends would say, but they'd get over it I'm sure. Everyone else who gets together goes to Hogsmeade, you know. I'd - I think I'd like to go with you."

At Draco's blank expression (he blinked rapidly, still processing what Hermione proposed) she kept on. "I mean, we wouldn't go to Madam Puddifoot's or anything - I don't think you'd like that - but there's the Three Broomsticks, and the bookstore, and... and..." she trailed off nervously.

Draco still hadn't come up with a good response. On the one hand, his heart felt like it might just burst out of his chest, it had swollen up so much - Hermione Granger was asking _him_ out to Hogsmeade? How in Merlin's name had he managed that?

On the other hand, he couldn't say yes. It wasn't safe. Word would travel quickly, especially over news _that_ big, and even among the students it could get around to important ears. Ears like Snape's, for example, or Vince's father's, or Gregory's... Ears that could easily transfer word directly to Voldemort himself, even if they didn't mean to.

But Hermione was pulling away, assuming the worst, thinking she'd been rejected. Draco squeezed her hand.

"No, it's alright," he said, giving a reassuring smile to buy some time.

He wasn't sure what to follow that with, but it was too late. Hermione, a moment ago terrified and embarrassed that she'd been so forward, now had what she needed to feel confident. She sighed in relief. Then, before Draco knew what was happening, she reached up to his face and kissed him, wrapping her arm around his neck. She thought he'd agreed.

Instead of feeling panic like he knew he should (how could he get out of this one?) Draco felt Hermione press up against him, rising to her tip-toes, and he forgot about anything else. He snaked an arm around her waist, gripping behind her slender neck to pull her in further, kissing her deeply.

Hermione dug her fingernails into Draco's back, sending electricity down his spine. He moaned, he couldn't help it. Against his chest, he could feel the swell of her small breasts, which only raised more curiosity in the back of his mind. His imagination ran wild. His body began reacting.

She tasted like mint, like she'd brushed her teeth within the hour, and Draco had to wonder if she'd hoped for this - if her feelings for him had actually won out against her anger, even after the incident with Katie. Was it really so crazy for her to fancy him? Maybe, just maybe -

Draco broke away, breathing heavily, but after one glance at Hermione's beautiful face (he could tell even in the dark - when did the light go out?) he growled and ducked his head into her neck, kissing along her jaw. Hermione let her head fall back with a satisfied gasp, and Draco nipped lightly at her smooth skin.

This uncontrollable urge reared up inside Draco; in all his moments with Daphne, he'd never felt this _desperate_. It was like he _needed_ Hermione, he _needed_ to discover every inch of her skin -

He slipped a hand under the collar of her robe, and under the shirt beneath, clutching her bare shoulder. At any moment, Hermione would push him away, tell him they were being ridiculous... Except that moment never came. Instead she gripped him tighter, even raking a hand up through his hair and clenching a handful in her fist.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, the only literate thing in his head. He sucked hard on the nook of her shoulder, hoping to leave a mark. Somewhere deep in his mind rose a second word: _mine_.

Hermione pulled him by his hair, yanking him away; she paused to give him a wide-eyed look, before slowly dipping her head toward his neck. She nudged his chin aside with her nose. Draco closed his eyes, trying to commit this sensation to memory.

Gently at first, Hermione trailed kisses down Draco's neck; then she slowed, opening her mouth to bite at him like he'd done. He ran a hand across her collarbone, then slid his palm down her breast and side - over her blouse this time, just to be safe - wondering when he should stop himself.

It was when Draco felt Hermione trembling that he came-to. He pulled back and cupped a hand under her cheek, hoping he hadn't pushed her too far; Hermione panted softly, her eyes searching.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I haven't - not before, really - oh, I must be awful..."

"Awful?" Draco repeated. He sounded as stunned as he felt. "No, Merlin no, Hermione. You're great."

At his reassurance, she gave him a small smile.

"So... does this mean we're a couple, then?"

Draco blinked. "Er, I don't know. It's just..."

"Just what?" Hermione asked, pulling away.

"Just... I don't know, that's all. Our friends will go batshit, for one -"

"They'll get over it."

"- it's not _safe_ , either -"

"I'm a bloody muggle-born, Draco!" Hermione argued, exasperated. "I'll never be safe, and being with you won't change that."

This gave Draco pause. Was she really fighting for him?

He felt her brush his hand away from her face.

"So what is it, then?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm good for a snog in a broom cupboard, but you won't be seen with me in public?"

"Hermione, _no_ ," Draco reached out, but she slapped his hand. "When I say it's not safe, I don't think you understand exactly -"

"Don't understand? You don't think I _understand?_ " Soon she'd be heard well into the corridor. "I'm muggle-born, I'm Harry Potter's best friend, I've fought in the bloody _Department of Mysteries_ and been cursed to near-death -"

"I _know_ you have, I didn't mean -"

"- so _don't_ tell me I don't understand what's unsafe!"

" _Hermione_." Draco placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, trying to calm her down. She just needed to listen, then she'd see, surely. She'd know why he couldn't date her out in the open.

"Why won't you be with me?" she asked, voice broken.

Draco sighed, hating the way she sounded right now. "I want to, please believe me. I just don't want to be the reason why you get hurt, and the more people who know..."

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I can't think of many things that would hurt worse than this."

" _Please_ , 'Mione -"

"Don't you call me that!"

Draco's mouth snapped shut, and he recoiled. He hadn't meant to call her anything except Hermione, _his_ Hermione, but the nickname seemed to have drawn venom. He felt at a total loss. How could he convince her that it was too dangerous to be out in the open together? How could he explain the kind of giant target they'd have on her back - and his - if anyone knew?

"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I'm not trying to hurt you. Please. I don't _ever_ want to hurt you."

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes now. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. You're still upset."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around how you could tell me no, _after_ you let me snog you, and _after_ you tried to feel me up. That's all."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Draco tried. "I wanted to tell you, but then you went ahead and - and practically _seduced_ me -"

"So it's my fault, now? You're unbelievable!" Hermione shoved him, sending Draco back into the myriad of brooms and mops stacked in the cupboard. They rattled loudly but caught him all the same. "I wasn't _seducing_ you, maybe you're just too bloody easy to rile up -"

"Me?" he laughed. " _Me?_ I'm sorry, was I the one locking people in broom cupboards and throwing myself at them?"

That seemed to do it. Hermione growled in frustration, gripping her wand in hand. Draco realized with a pang that tears streamed down her face.

"Fine," she hissed, "I take it back. Don't go to Hogsmeade with me, fine. Don't tell your friends you fancy me, _fine_. But I'll have you know that I do _not_ need to throw myself at someone to keep their attention, Draco. You're not the only one who fancies me in this school."

He felt his face growing hot. An irrational anger gripped him.

"Go on then," he dared her. "Let me know how that works out for you, yeah?"

Hermione gave Draco one last deadly glare before throwing open the door and stalking out into the corridor. He felt even angrier that she'd listened. Words bubbled up in his throat.

"So glad we could have this little chat, _Granger._ "

She halted, but only for a moment. If Draco weren't mistaken, she walked even more quickly afterward, and her head ducked a bit lower.

Draco watched her go, furious at himself for being mean and desperate with Hermione in face of her stubbornness. When she disappeared around the corner, Draco rubbed his neck where she'd bit him only moments ago. If it were at all possible on this already-disastrous day, he really felt like he'd just mucked everything up even more.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks for reading. You requested more Dramione, so there you go.

I realize that Hermione is acting quite immature. Let's face it, she's extremely intelligent, but she can tend toward being overly-emotional in the books. Don't worry too much - she really needed to express this stuff, but she won't act this immaturely much longer.

Thank you to all who have faithfully reviewed - you're quite lovely. Please continue to let me know what you think, and what you are looking forward to in this story.

Penny


	22. Slughorn's Party

**Chapter Twenty-One: Slughorn's Party**

"She's going with McLaggen tonight, you know."

Blaise stood in front of the dormitory mirror, adjusting his dress robes - this time a masculine slate-gray - and watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. Draco was half-laying on his bed, an arm slung over his face, and had been like that since lunch.

"Of course she is," he said.

"And I suppose you're going to sit around and mope about it all night?"

Draco sat up, glaring at his friend. "What would you have me do, Blaise? Crash Slughorn's party and drag her away?"

Blaise didn't answer. He merely smirked at his reflection, finally satisfied. At Blaise's silence, Draco fell back in defeat; Blaise knew the idea had been planted, though, and that his friend would come around.

"Anyway, what is she playing at?" Draco asked. "Going with him? After I specifically told her to be careful, too."

"Maybe she's making you jealous."

Draco laughed, but it was a strained sound. Blaise detected both hope and doubt in it.

"Looked more like she was trying to make Weasley jealous," Draco said. "You don't think - she wouldn't have _done_ anything with him, would she?"

"Weasley?" Blaise said. "Why shouldn't she? It's not like she's tied down. Just because you snogged her once or twice doesn't mean she owes you anything."

"But - just, not _Weasley_ ," Draco moaned. " _Anyone_ but sodding Weasley..."

"Be careful what you wish for." Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco, subtly reminding him of his other competition.

Draco sat up and scowled. "Oh, shove off. Like you're doing any better with Lovegood."

His comment made Blaise blush - a rare sight, indeed - and Draco felt a little bad for it. But it was true. Either Blaise had a secret romance going, or those two hadn't interacted since last year.

"You look sharp." Theo strode into the dormitory, gave Blaise an approving glance, then made to sift through his trunk. "What's with him?" he asked over his shoulder, motioning vaguely toward Draco.

"Lady troubles," Blaise answered. At Draco's ensuing scowl, Blaise grinned.

"Thought so. He has the look of it. Ah, here we are."

Theo tugged a tiny, silver-wrapped package out of his trunk. He stood, brandishing it proudly.

"Had to hide it, see," he explained. "Pansy's been sniffing around for hints for ages. She's pretty determined, that one."

"What did you get her?" Blaise asked. He eyed the tiny package uneasily. "Not..."

"Not a ring, Merlin no," Theo said. "Bugger, that's what it looks like, doesn't it? It's just a bracelet - got it specially from Wanda's Wonders, that jewelry place in Diagon Alley. It's goblin work. It matches her patronus, which I thought she'd like."

Draco sat up. "Pansy can produce a patronus?"

Blaise and Theo looked over, partly confused. Blaise seemed more annoyed than anything.

"She learned weeks ago. I bet if you paid more attention, you'd remember her talking about it." Blaise turned back to Theo. "Nevermind the package, she'll love it. You might warn her it's not a ring first, though."

Theo nodded, rubbing his sandy-blond hair. "Good idea. Thanks, mate. Later Draco." He walked back out of the dormitory with an air of excitement.

 _When did Pansy learn a patronus?_ Draco reeled at the thought. It was advanced magic, that. He hadn't done it yet - he'd never seen the purpose of it. How had he totally missed that large piece of news?

"You do realize it's nearly Christmas, right? Or did you miss that memo, too?"

Blaise had resumed preening himself in the mirror, trying to make his already-flawless hair even more presentable. That annoyed edge to his tone remained.

"I don't know how... Did she even tell me to begin with?"

"Yes she did," Blaise said. "She told us all at dinner last month. I've never seen her so excited, not since Theo asked her to meet his parents. And you don't know how you missed it? I'll tell you how. It's because you've spent all your time sulking around, whining to me about Granger, but you won't do anything about it."

Draco frowned. "I haven't been _sulking_..."

"Oh yes you have," Blaise snapped. "And you know what? It's getting old. You act like your hands are tied, but they're not. It seems like everywhere else, you have no options - but with her, for some reason I don't understand, you could actually change things if you tried. You just refuse to."

"You really think I could change things?" Draco asked seriously.

Blaise turned, ready to leave. "Yes. Merlin knows she's given you more chances than anyone could have guessed. And judging by the way she stares at you all the time, those chances haven't run out just yet." He strode out of the room, looking smart and grown-up, and didn't bother saying goodbye to his friend. They'd probably see each other later, anyway, the way Blaise figured.

Draco mulled over everything Blaise had just said, wanting to believe it was true. Maybe if he made an effort, _maybe_ if he decided once and for all to pursue Hermione, then things would go the right way. Maybe.

...

Hermione swept aside her hair, pinning it back from her face in a way she hoped looked dignified, but not _too_ nice. At the time, she'd thought that asking Cormac to the party was a grand idea... Now she dreaded it. He simply wasn't a chivalrous or intelligent person. And the idea of spending an entire evening fending him off, well... No way it was worth it.

 _I'm an idiot,_ she thought sourly _. There are a million ways to get to him, there have to be, and I picked this one. And he probably doesn't even care._

She smeared on a bit of eyeliner and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. If it were Draco who'd be on her arm all night, she would have spent hours meticulously grooming herself, and possibly days just deciding on a dress. Or shoes, even. Perhaps she couldn't even handle that, and she'd spontaneously combust from the anticipation.

 _Ruddy boys._

Thank Merlin she'd have Harry around, at least. That would be a nice distraction. Hermione wondered briefly if he'd bring anyone - he hadn't said - or if he'd go stag in hopes of catching Ginny's attention.

Harry obviously liked Ginny. Any time she came near, he straightened himself up and deepened his voice without realizing. It was kind of cute, really. Ginny surely had feelings for Harry, Hermione thought, and she had since she'd first met him. Hermione didn't think Dean Thomas would last much longer.

Slumping on the end of her bed, Hermione slipped a pair of modest heels onto her feet and started at their tiny fasteners. It annoyed her, really, how much her focus had drained this year, and what with the parties added it felt like everything emphasized romance and dating. Ron had Lavender, and good on them, and Harry was pining for Ginny. Even Neville had taken Hannah Abbott to Hogsmeade once or twice.

But why care? They stood on the brink of _war_. Why care about petty relationships?

Draco came to mind, with his sharp jaw and steel-gray eyes. Hermione suddenly felt quite warm. She recalled the feel of his hands upon her, the way he looked at her, even his smell -

A blush burned onto Hermione's face. That smell. Her mind skipped back to the first day of class this year, and Slughorn's amortentia. She'd been so stupidly obvious that day.

' _For example, I smell coconut, and shoe polish, and - and green apples...'_ Meanwhile, Draco had taken a loud chomp in the back of the room; thankfully no one had paid him any mind, nor the apple in his hand.

She frowned at the memories. She'd been hard on him. He hadn't fabricated his safety concerns, and Hermione could kick herself for getting angry the way she had. She hadn't even considered Narcissa Malfoy's safety when she'd reacted, or the safety of Draco's father. Selfish, that's what she'd been. Bloody selfish. It's not like this was Pretty in Pink, after all, this was real life, and she had to consider that in these times real danger presented itself quite often.

Hermione sighed, smoothing out her dress. She'd probably ruined it, hadn't she? First with this summer and giving him the cold-shoulder, and now with her selfishness.

She and Draco didn't share many classes this year, but they did still cross paths on a daily basis, and these days he didn't make any moves to interact. His eyes would follow her sometimes as she left after dinner or passed by in the corridor, but he didn't smile. Not that Hermione did, either, but that was pure nerves.

Had she totally ruined it? Probably. Would she give her wand arm to have a second chance?

 _Yes_ , she thought immediately, rubbing her neck. She dropped her hand. Not that she'd meant to, but she'd been running her fingers absentmindedly over the place where, until recently, she'd had a significant bite-mark.

"Ready?"

Hermione looked up to see Ginny poking in through the dormitory door. As always, the redhead looked gorgeous.

"Yeah, just about," Hermione answered. She grabbed her clutch purse, which held her wand, some tissues, and her lipgloss, and she followed her friend out into the common room.

Ginny wore a forest-green velvet dress, something Hermione thought must be purely wizarding fashion; no one in the muggle world had worn velvet since the eighties. It did look stunning on Ginny's athletic figure, though, hugging her curves while bearing a modest cut. Even Ron would have to (begrudgingly at least) approve.

Hermione, in contrast, had picked out a rose-colored, dainty-looking number. It cinched at her waist but otherwise left everything to the imagination - she didn't want Cormac to have much to go on, there.

"Hello boys," Ginny said brightly once they entered the common room. Sure enough, Dean, Harry, Ron, and Neville all loitered about, three of the four clad in black dress robes.

"You're not wearing _that_ , are you?" Ron said to his sister, tugging at his pajamas irritably. Perhaps Hermione had given him too much credit.

"You better believe it." Ginny strode over to Dean, who leaned down to quietly compliment her. She smiled almost shyly in thanks, then turned to Harry. "So Slughorn's finally convinced you to come? You clean up well, at any rate."

"Thanks," Harry said, rocking awkwardly on his feet. When he didn't say anything afterward, Hermione caught his eye and gave a jerky nod back in Ginny's direction, trying to give him a hint. He straightened quickly. "Oh, er, you look good too."

 _Well, it'll have to do_.

The group stood in an uncomfortable silence, Ron glancing suspiciously between Harry and Ginny (Dean had offered an annoyed glare, but covered it up before they noticed) while Hermione waited, cringing, for Cormac to appear.

"So," Neville started, "Harry, I heard you're bringing Luna."

"Yeah," Harry answered. Once again, he seemed to forget to say anything else.

"That's nice..." Neville trailed off quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

A knock sounded from the portrait-hole, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Harry walked over and opened the door, where Luna herself stood in a strange plasticky dress, the usual dreamy expression on her face; Harry turned back to the others.

"Well? I guess we should get going, right?"

Neville, Ginny, and Dean shuffled out the door, though Hermione grimaced and remained in place. She'd have to wait for Cormac, and now they'd be walking alone. What on _earth_ would they talk about during the long trek to Slughorn's?

"I'll catch up," she called. Then she slumped down on the couch, glowering.

Ron fell into the seat beside her. "Harry's been acting odd, hasn't he?"

Hermione laughed. "You mean more than usual?"

Ron chuckled. This was the most relaxed they'd been together since the arrival of Lavender in Ron's life. Hermione missed him as a friend, but she couldn't stand to watch him snog his obnoxious girlfriend all day, which he had a tendency to do. Fortunately Lavender was having a girl's night in the fifth-year dormitory, so Ron's face could have a nice reprieve from being sucked off constantly.

"What are you waiting for, anyway?" Ron asked, stretching with a yawn.

"Oh -" Hermione's face went pink. "Er, I'm actually waiting on my date..."

Ron sat up straighter. "You're taking someone? A guy?"

"Yes, a _guy_ , Ronald."

"Well who is it?"

"I think _I_ can answer that for you," came a new, deeper voice.

Cormac descended from the boy's dormitories, a particularly overconfident expression on his face. Not that he looked bad - he wore standard fitted dress robes, which did justice to his physique - but Hermione wanted to turn her nose up at him. He must've thought he came across as terribly suave.

Ron watched, slack-jawed, as Cormac crossed the common room, bowed, and took Hermione's hand. He kissed her knuckles. She hid her face in embarrassment - which he interpreted as simply acting demure, of course.

"You're taking _that?_ " Ron asked, ignoring Cormac entirely.

"Shove it, Ron," Hermione hissed. "There's no need to be a prat."

He shot Cormac a dirty look, crossing his arms, but said nothing.

"Well," Cormac said, ignoring Ron altogether, "Shall we?" He offered his elbow, and very reluctantly, Hermione took it. She and Ron didn't bother saying their good-byes.

Cormac steered Hermione into the corridor, totally unaware that his long strides forced her to trot to keep up. Her feet already ached from the effort. Fortunately his strong grip on Hermione's arm made it impossible for her to fall behind.

"I really must say, you look stunning," he said to her. "I knew I'd have the most beautiful date in the room."

Hermione sighed. "Thanks. You like nice, yourself."

"Yes, well, it comes with the territory," Cormac boasted. "When you're looking forward to a promising quidditch career, as I am, then you learn to dress yourself exceptionally. It's not all boots and team uniforms, after all. I expect this won't be the last little party I attend." He winked, flashing a winning smile.

If she could have stopped him, she would have. Instead Hermione found herself subjected to a hefty monologue on Cormac's mighty quidditch "career," and she resigned to merely uttering "oh," and "of course," at appropriate intervals. He never once asked her about herself.

 _Merlin and Morgana, what have I gotten myself into_?

...

Draco tugged on a suit jacket, leaving quietly from the common room into the corridor. Slughorn's office, where he hosted his parties, shouldn't be too difficult to find, which was good because by now he'd become _very_ determined.

He wouldn't do anything drastic - though to walk in, bend Hermione back, and snog her senseless would almost be worth it purely for the reactions he'd get - but it was time to make a point. She'd thought he was embarrassed to be seen with her, and he'd prove that wasn't true. Plus, in a public setting, she couldn't exactly hex him if she got angry again.

No, he'd keep it simple. Walk in, get two nice drinks, and pull Hermione aside for a nice chat. Aside, but in plain sight. Let the others make of it what they would.

Draco found the stairs and ascended quickly to the second floor; the hospital wing was on the third, and all he'd heard Blaise mention was to head "somewhere under that." Considering Hogwarts' size, however, this wasn't particularly helpful. He listened hard for any signs of life, but heard nothing.

 _Hm. Might be harder than I thought._

He glanced at his watch - Blaise had left almost an hour ago, so the party would be in full swing by now.

"Well would you look at this," came a familiar, greasy-sounding drawl. Draco stopped in his tracks, groaning internally, as Filch continued somewhere behind him, "Little late to be out of bed, eh?"

Draco turned around slowly, composing himself. "Actually, sir, I've been invited to join Professor Slughorn in his office. I just can't seem to find it."

Filch approached from the stairs, a lantern in hand. His long brown coat bore patches and unpleasant-looking stains, so it fit the caretaker rather well. Mrs. Norris purred softly at his feet.

 _Bloody cat,_ Draco thought. _If only that basilisk had finished you off..._

She hissed at him.

"Don't you 'sir' me," Filch grumbled. "Months on end, working for good Miss Delores, and never once was I called 'sir' then. But set one toe out of line..." He appraised Draco, an especially unhappy glint in his eye. "I s'pose you look the type for these smarmy get-togethers... This way..."

Draco followed the man, who hobbled slowly (muttering to himself all the while) and they passed down one long corridor, turned right, and all the way down the next. Filch stopped beside a suit of armor.

"Your wand," he grunted.

"Oh," Draco said, pulling his out quickly. Filch rolled his eyes when Draco didn't immediately know what to do with it, and he pantomimed smacking the armor. Not entirely certain of himself, Draco tapped on the suit's chest; immediately it sprang aside, and a door materialized in the wall behind it.

"Oh no you don't," Filch said when Draco made to enter. The man grabbed Draco by the arm, and before Draco could react, he found himself being dragged into the party by the last person he'd want.

 _Bloody hell, not like this -_

"Found this one wandering about the castle!" Filch pushed Draco forward, and only then did Draco take in his surroundings.

The office - if it could be called that, as it was significantly larger than was usual - had been swathed in cloths and curtains, and people of all ages, all dressed impeccably, stopped to stare his way. Several tables were stacked with trays of food and fountains of various color, and a large Christmas tree sparkled in one corner.

" _Claims_ he was invited to your party -"

"Alright, alright," Draco cut in, wrenching his arm from Filch's grasp. The caretaker looked too smug for Draco's taste. "I was gatecrashing, okay? Are you happy?" He could already feel his face heating up.

 _Great. So much for the plan._

Professor Slughorn, clad in one of his garish robes, stepped forward. "Is that you, Malfoy? David, is it?"

"Draco, sir."

Slughorn nodded slowly, looking him up and down. "Right, right. I suppose you're welcome to stay..."

"Sorry professor -"

Draco turned, and he felt his mouth fall open. Hermione had stepped forward, and she was as beautiful as ever. It was like being at the Yule Ball all over again, except this time she wasn't glaring daggers. A fluttery pink dress draped over her modest curves, and it brought out the light blush in her cheeks and the pale color of her lips. He blinked rapidly, trying not to stare.

"- Only, I might have given him the wrong impression," she continued. "I think he heard me mention the party, and I said that your top potions students were all invited. Of course, he would be one of those, wouldn't he?"

"Ah, yes," Slughorn said. He brightened considerably. "Well do stay, m'boy. Have yourself a drink."

Filch, whose face had fallen into an impressive scowl, slunk away. He mumbled to Mrs. Norris as he went about incompetency and miscreant students.

The party fell quickly into its previous state, where most of the guests talked in small groups, none paying any more attention to their latest arrival. Draco spotted Blaise off in the corner, chatting with an older wizard and appearing decidedly bored. Not too far off, Potter sipped on a drink beside Luna Lovegood (who looked like she'd strung a few garbage bags together in lieu of a dress, but Draco tried not to judge) and he wore an expression of confusion. His eyes were on Hermione.

"Thanks," Draco said. Everyone else had turned away, but Hermione remained close. He caught Slughorn giving them an odd glance before shuffling off.

Hermione shrugged. "You needed it."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, which he'd just washed. He mustered up all his courage, hoping to fend off his nerves. "So, er, would you like -"

"Here you go, _gorgeous_."

Cormac McLaggen stepped up just behind Hermione, holding a glass with a strange green liquid inside. Draco could swear it held a live newt.

Hermione's gaze fell to the floor, while Cormac, upon discovering Draco, nearly dropped her drink in surprise.

"Oh. Uh, hello."

"Hello yourself," Draco said coldly. Since last year Cormac had religiously avoided all Slytherins, afraid that Pansy's influence stretched over her entire house; despite the glint of fear in his eyes, however, he didn't seem willing to back off this time.

"I got you a drink," Cormac said bluntly to Hermione. He placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her away. "Let's find somewhere more private, shall we?"

"Don't touch her."

A white-hot rage bristled up inside Draco's chest upon seeing that almost-innocent contact. He thought back on Pansy, and how McLaggen had been to blame for her broken heart this time last year, and that anger flared.

"Draco?" Hermione shrugged Cormac off, clearly anxious.

"I don't think this concerns you," McLaggen said warningly.

Hermione waved a hand in front of his face, trying to shoo him off. She still looked to Draco, her gaze not leaving him.

"Not tonight, Cormac," she said blandly. "It's not working, sorry."

Then Hermione touched Draco's elbow lightly - she'd meant to grab his hand, but held herself back - and she moved past him, away from everyone else, and away from one very astounded Cormac McLaggen.

Draco followed without question.

"It's one thing to be jealous, and another thing to be _that_ jealous," Hermione said over her shoulder. She made sure to keep her voice low.

"McLaggen's scum," Draco said simply. "He shouldn't be touching you. Or anyone, for that matter."

This received a slight eyebrow-raise, but Hermione didn't ask further. They'd stepped into a slight recess in the curtains, and aside from a second-year passing out _hors d'oeuvres_ , they wouldn't be bothered.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison.

"You're what?" Hermione blinked. "But why? I was awful."

"You weren't awful," Draco said. "It just might be difficult to see things from my perspective, if you haven't been face-to-face with - well, with _him_." He gulped. "I was mean, wasn't I?"

Hermione smirked. "I think your inner Slytherin made an appearance."

Draco smiled at the jibe. This was... Nice. This was nice, and unexpected.

"Look, I'm sorry I spoke up before," Hermione went on. "You probably would have been fine if I hadn't, and I know you don't want to be seen with me, it just kind of happened -"

"It's not that I don't want to be seen with you. I actually _came_ here to be seen with you." Draco glanced down. "And, well, to apologize."

"You shouldn't. Apologize, I mean. But I appreciate it." She played a bit with a frill on her dress, trying not to blush. "You came to be seen with me?"

"Yes."

A wide, brilliant smile broke out on Hermione's face, and it was the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen. His chest tightened, feeling suddenly quite full and warm.

"Listen," he said, dropping his voice, "I really, _really_ wish things were different, but -"

"But this is all we can do." Hermione's smile faded from that wide grin, but the corners of her small mouth remained decidedly upturned. "I know. It makes sense. I don't actually think we should be public, now that I've thought it over."

"Not be public... But should we - I mean, _are_ we -"

"Would I consider _not_ being public, you mean?" Hermione shrugged. "I've certainly had enough of snogging in broom cupboards... But I meant what I said. I didn't want to go to Hogsmeade _just_ to be seen with you, you know. It's just occurred to me that I don't actually _know_ you."

Draco chewed on his lip. He chose his words carefully. "Would you like to?"

"Mr. Malfoy," interjected a familiar drawling, nasally voice.

Hermione and Draco snapped to attention; before them stood Professor Snape, who peered down over his hooked nose with an expression of total distaste. He frowned.

"A word."

With that Snape spun on his heel, striding away purposely. Draco reeled. This wouldn't be good. He turned back to Hermione, giving her a sincerely apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I have to go."

But before he could leave, Hermione reached over and subtly, so subtle that surely no one else saw, she touched his hand.

"The answer, Draco, is yes."

Hermione walked off into the party, probably aiming for Potter or Ginny Weasley, and Draco watched her go.

 _The answer is yes._

 _The answer is bloody_ yes.

* * *

 **A/N** : Hey guys! I hope you feel better about your Dramione fix now that their little spat's been cleared up. I got a lot of complaints (not really serious critique, but more like a "grr, let's see them make up!" kind of stuff) about how Hermione acted in the last chapter. And they were so justifiable - she was being a selfish, angsty teenager. He fell into the angst too. From here on out we'll see them be more mature and approach this differently, and really try for one another.

A few notes:

So I'm really going to be twisting canon around. I mean, in the books Hermione never spoke up during this scene, and Snape didn't give much of a chance before dragging Draco away. I really like to include canon, though - as in, mention the _possibility_ of something happening even if it doesn't in my story. I just like it.

The bit about the location of Slughorn's office was really a jibe at the hp-lexicon info on it. It's highly vague. I pretty much quoted it directly. Not to blame the lexicon, they know their stuff, I just don't like not having canon details to reference.

Speaking of references... Pretty in Pink. That might have taken you out of it totally, but I watched it last night and nearly stopped the movie to dwell on how much Hermione would relate to Andie. Holy crap, so much. I like to think that Hermione's well-versed in famous muggle movies, and this one made the cut. So there's that.

I think that's all I have for you... Except a HUGE thanks to my loyal reviewers. Not only do I have so many of you that reliably review, but many of you get really in-depth in what you liked/disliked. That really makes it for me. You guys are awesome. I look forward to your reviews, they really keep me going.

Much love,

Penny


	23. The Meeting

_A/N: The first scene follows quite closely to the books, but it has been changed in some specific places. These changes make it not only compliant with my AU, but they're also kind of important. I just say this to discourage skipping through it._

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: The Meeting**

Severus Snape swept out of Slughorn's garish party, his insides roiling angrily. For weeks since Katie Bell's attack he'd tried to contact Draco, and the boy had avoided him with all the obstinance of a mule. A particularly _stubborn_ mule. And now this... To see Draco dragged into the event by Filch, having been caught out in the corridors on his own... Did he really not see how much danger he'd put himself in?

He heard the door open and shut, and Draco walked hesitantly into Severus's view.

"This way," Severus snapped. He strode swiftly down the corridor, keeping an eye out for a good place to speak. At the end of the hall he grew impatient and stepped into the nearest unused classroom. When he turned about, Draco had just closed the door behind himself. The boy wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Katie Bell was your doing," Severus stated coldly.

Draco straightened up, clearly not expecting such bluntness.

"She was not, professor."

"You're lying. I can read you too easily, Draco. Tell me the truth."

"I had nothing to do with it!" Draco spat.

Severus ground his teeth. "I don't understand your unwillingness to receive help. You need it. You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you're expelled -"

"I didn't have anything to do with -"

"I _hope_ you're telling the truth," Severus went on. "Already, you are suspect. It was clumsy."

Draco's eyes widened. "Who suspects me? For the _last time_ , I didn't do it, okay? Bell must've had an enemy - or something -"

Severus, finally reaching the end of his rope, closed his eyes in frustration. So it had come to this.

 _Legilimens_.

Severus felt his mind reaching out. It pressed against the other presence in the room - Draco's - and enveloped it completely.

"Wait - stop - I know what you're doing!" Draco said. "I'm not stupid, it won't work - I can stop you!"

Indeed, though he'd been caught off guard, Draco's mind quickly steeled over. Perhaps he felt more determined tonight to protect himself, because Severus felt his own mind pushed back. Had the boy been practicing?

"Has your Aunt Bella been teaching you as well?" Severus asked quietly. "What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"No she hasn't," Draco said. "I'm not trying to hide anything from _him._ I just don't want _you_ butting in anymore, alright?"

Something dawned on Severus, and it suddenly seemed so obvious. All the progress they'd made last year had stemmed from one very deep resolve in Draco's mind; he wouldn't give away his most intimate memories. Even with Daphne Greengrass Draco had managed to push a little, but anything involving Hermione Granger... Severus didn't stand a chance, not anymore.

"She's made you foolish."

A kind of panic crept into Draco's expression, and that alone confirmed Severus's suspicions. He cursed inwardly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco said firmly. He tugged on his collar.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me this term?" Severus asked. "You have feared my interference? You realize that, had another student failed to come to my office after being repeatedly asked -"

"So put me in detention!" Draco burst out. "Report me to Dumbledore!"

Severus paused. If he weren't mistaken, there was a note of sincerity in Draco's last request. The boy really wanted out of all of this, didn't he?

"You know perfectly well I can't do that," Severus said, almost sadly.

"Then stop telling me to come to your office."

Severus sighed, dropping his voice. "Listen to me. I am trying to help you, Draco. I swore to your mother I would protect you - I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco. And you're jeopardizing yourself by getting involved with -"

He stopped himself short. His mind was still hyper-aware from attempting Legilimency, and he now sensed something. Someone.

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then," Draco said. "I don't need your protection. I know what that means - it means I'll still have to -"

Severus shot Draco a warning glare. Though Draco didn't feel what Severus did, the boy at least had the sense to keep his words in check.

"- Well nevermind that, you _know_ what it means. I don't want to. I won't do it. I'll run if I have to -"

"You can't run." Severus drew his cloak tighter, inching his way toward the door. He could feel, distinctly, a presence there. "You must finish what you've started. He'll kill you if you don't. He'll kill your mother, and your father -"

"So that's it, then?" Draco seethed. "I'll just blindly obey?"

Though his questions sounded almost memorized, which made Severus wonder how often Draco thought about backing out, Severus knew he had to convince him. No matter what, Draco would be convinced.

Severus nodded slowly, giving Draco a heavy stare. Draco's shoulders slumped.

"What is your plan?" Severus asked, trying to be gentle.

"I'll think of something," Draco answered blandly.

"Let me assist you -"

"I have all the assistance I _need_ , thank you!" Draco snapped.

"Do you? You looked very alone tonight - at least until you arrived at the party. I wonder if this is the kind of _assistance_ you truly need."

Draco's face grew red. "Well what would _you_ know? Maybe she can help me more than you ever -"

"Keep your voice down!" Snape hissed, remembering their eavesdropper. "You are acting like a child. Don't let yourself be distracted."

Draco looked down, but he was obviously angry. He clenched his fists.

Was he really so determined not to let the girl go?

Memories bubbled up in Severus's mind, but he shoved them aside, not willing to relive them again. Not tonight. Even with that decision made, a flash of long, beautiful red hair made its way to the surface. His chest seized painfully.

Severus heard footsteps, and before he could react Draco had already crossed over to the door. He opened his mouth to call him back, but chose against it. The young blond threw open the door and stalked off, not looking back.

Letting his heart rate slow, Severus took a moment before he followed. He stepped into the corridor, and let his mind wander.

 _Of course it would be you,_ he thought, recognizing the other presence. After spending countless evenings training Potter in occlumency, the same as he'd done with Draco, Severus recognized the boy's engorged sense of self. Those two really weren't so different, in that way, though Draco had deflated some in the last year.

Severus glanced around, but saw nothing.

 _Damned invisibility cloak. Albus never should have given him that_.

Thinking of Dumbledore brought on a whole new flurry of emotions, namely guilt and frustration, so Severus shook his head and strode back to the party. His thoughts returned to Potter.

Should he be worried that Potter was on to Draco? Probably... But then, maybe Potter had heard the right things tonight, that Draco wanted out... Maybe it would be enough to change things.

Severus went back in to the party, hoping to clear his head, and move on with his evening. Somehow, he didn't think it would quite work.

...

Draco waited until he'd rounded the corner, then he began running. His feet hit the ground faster and faster, carrying him who knows where; he didn't care where they took him. He just needed to get away.

All in the span of a few minutes he'd gone from walking on air to feeling utterly crushed and helpless. Snape had as good as told Draco outright that he had to kill Dumbledore - in the moment, Draco had snapped something about breaking the vow, but he knew Snape couldn't. If he'd truly made an Unbreakable Vow then that would mean death.

 _So it's a choice then,_ Draco thought, his heart thudding in his ears. _It's either Snape or Dumbledore. One or the other has to die, and it's up to me to decide._

He felt like he would retch. Feet skidding on the stone floor, Draco glanced quickly around, spotting a girls' loo. It would have to do. He punched the door open and leapt for the nearest stall.

"This is a _girls_ ' bathroom, you know!"

Draco, alarmed to find he wasn't alone, wanted to look up and see who he'd intruded on. Instead he felt his stomach churn and he had to empty its contents into the toilet.

"Oooh, sick, are you?"

Heaving again, but to no end, Draco wiped his mouth on his sleeve and collapsed onto his side. He then sat up immediately, blinking.

Floating above the stall was the ghost of a girl. A young girl, too, she could easily have been a first- or second- year. She wore a Hogwarts uniform, though it was as pale and see-through as her face.

"Who are you?" Draco asked.

"Me?" The girl pressed her hands to her chest, feigning surprise. " _I'm_ Myrtle. And this is my toilet."

Draco looked around, fairly dazed, and pulled himself up despite his shaking feet. "Oh - er, sorry."

Myrtle drifted down in front of Draco, stopping him in his tracks.

"You were at that party, weren't you?" she asked. " _I_ wasn't invited. Apparently I'm too mopey..." Her voice cracked with distress, and then she emitted a high-pitched, shrieking wail.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Draco replied, side-stepping the ghost.

"Of course not," Myrtle whined, "Who would want to stay and talk to poor, moping, Moaning Myrtle? No one _ever_ visits me anymore..."

Draco paused. "No one? No one ever comes in here?"

"No... It's _terribly_ lonely..."

 _Hm. Good to know, I suppose._

"Right," Draco said, "Well, it's not that - really - I just have loads of homework to get back to. I should get going."

Myrtle began wailing again, this time so loudly that Draco actually had to cover his ears. He finally gave up on a graceful exit and ran straight into the corridor, Myrtle's cries dying out behind him.

Instead of sprinting away again, Draco stopped and slumped against the wall. He rubbed his face tiredly.

 _What next?_

...

Unfortunately, Draco wouldn't get to go home for Christmas this year. He watched the next day as his dorm mates packed their things, and then he saw Pansy and Blaise off at the train. He'd half-expected to see Hermione too, but when only Potter and Weasley trudged aboard, Draco thought that she must have beat them there.

So he settled in for a long week alone, and he planned to spend most of it repairing the vanishing cabinet. He still had Snape's warning in the back of his head, and it would pop up every so often, but quite frankly Draco wasn't ready to deal with it. He could plan his next move later.

He spent that Saturday afternoon up in the room of requirement, working until he couldn't see straight and his head ached from the effort. The great cabinet was nearly finished - if he kept at it, he might even have it done within the week.

 _Ruddy cupboard,_ he thought _. Not worth the effort, not a bit._

Draco's stomach rumbled impressively. He sighed, and started on the long march down to the great hall for dinner. His mind drifted back to the task at hand.

 _There has to be a way to stop them... They can't make it into the school. If they do, it'll be a slaughter._

Voldemort hadn't actually specified _why_ the Death Eaters were to raid Hogwarts, so this was the only logical conclusion. They would kill. Perhaps that would be Voldemort's formal invitation for an all-out war among the wizarding world.

 _There has to be a way..._

But how? Wasn't that just the question? Maybe Snape couldn't help with the issue of killing Dumbledore, but he could help stop the attack on students. Could Snape really be trusted?

Draco mulled over these thoughts all the way until he found his table. He sat and began shoveling green bean casserole onto his plate.

The great hall looked empty compared to usual; only about half the professors sat at their table, and a fraction of the students sat at theirs. Draco could count on one hand the Slytherins who'd stayed behind. He gazed out over the other tables, then froze.

All by herself, quill in hand while taking small bites of dinner, Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table. Had she not noticed that Draco was there, too?

A paper fluttered into Draco's lap - he hadn't seen from where. He looked up but saw no owls, and unfolded the parchment carefully.

 _Staying here for Christmas? Sounds boring._

Draco snorted. He'd recognize that neat handwriting anywhere.

As he watched, a corner of the parchment began tearing away. It detached itself cleanly; the corner rolled in on itself, straightening out into a long nib, while the other end grew flat and wispy. Now a miniature quill, it floated lazily into Draco's hand.

He stared in awe at this magic, and when he looked up to catch Hermione's eye, she still looked down. She held her quill up to her lips, thinking, before writing again. When Draco looked back down, the words on the parchment had changed.

 _Try not to be so obvious._

A smile slowly broke out on his face. Brilliant. Draco hesitated with the quill, but then he thought back on Hermione's other clever charms, and he realized he wouldn't need ink. He set the quill to the paper, just under Hermione's message, and began scribbling.

 _You're a bloody genius, you know that?_ he wrote.

After a moment, the ink faded away, leaving only blank space in its wake.

 _I know,_ Hermione wrote. _I do try._

Draco was about to respond when she continued.

 _What did Snape have to say?_

Breath catching in his throat, Draco closed his eyes. He really didn't want to think about that right now, but he had to say something.

 _He knew it was me who sent the necklace,_ he wrote, his writing becoming sloppier as he went. _He wants to help me._

 _Help you kill Dumbledore?_

 _It's more complicated than that. I told him no, anyway._

It took a minute before Hermione replied, and Draco used that time to dig in to his meal. When he remembered that at any moment Hermione might look up and see him, he slowed down and promptly returned to using his manners.

 _You told him no?_ Hermione wrote.

 _Yes. I don't want his help,_ Draco wrote back _. Can we talk about this later? Not over an enchanted piece of parchment?_

He spied Hermione, who smiled to herself at his reply.

 _I thought you'd go home for the holiday,_ Draco wrote.

 _I told Harry and Ron that I was. But then I thought... Someone might need me here, and I'd like to be around for that_.

Draco felt warmth bloom in his chest.

 _You stayed for me?_

 _Maybe._

He grinned. _So are we going to spend the whole holiday writing back and forth like this?_

 _Maybe... If you're too afraid to meet up elsewhere_.

 _I'm not afraid_ , Draco wrote quickly. He bit his lip, waiting for Hermione's reply.

Some time later, it finally arrived: _Do you know the room of requirement?_

Draco groaned aloud, though he was only very slightly displeased. He knew that room _all_ too well, after all.

...

Later that evening, Draco paced quietly in the darkness, Hermione's enchanted note stuck in his breast pocket. It reminded him of his induction into Voldemort's ranks; on that day, the worst of days, he'd needed to keep a memento close as well. He wasn't sure he'd ever part with this magicked one. He certainly hoped Hermione wouldn't part with hers.

He heard light footsteps approaching, and pressed himself into the wall. His pocket burned.

Pulling out the little slip of paper, which had grown quite hot, Draco squinted at it.

 _Is that you?_

"Hermione?" he asked quietly. He heard her let out a long breath.

Just down the corridor, a light appeared; Hermione held her wand aloft, and it washed them both in a warm glow. She'd pulled her hair back loosely and now wore a cozy-looking knitted sweater.

"You came," she said, sounding surprised.

"Er, should I not have?" Draco asked.

"Oh, no, of course you should," Hermione said. "It's just... I was worried I'd scared you off, saying that I stayed - well, for -"

Draco smirked. "I told you I'm not afraid, didn't I?"

Hermione blushed - he loved making her blush like that - and she shuffled her small feet shyly.

"You did, I suppose," she said. "Are you ready to go in?"

It suddenly occurred to Draco that he might not be able to enter the room of requirement with Hermione. Yes, the room changed to suit one's needs, but he'd been in and out so often to work on the vanishing cabinet, he wasn't sure he could avoid calling upon _that_ particular room.

"After you," he managed weakly. If they walked into the cavernous junk room he used, then he could always pull her away.

 _Yes, but away to where?_ he thought.

Hermione had already set to pacing, her face set in determination. Draco rather admired that expression. Hermione was a powerful, brilliant witch, after all. She wasn't weak or easily distressed. She wasn't like other girls either, with their cattiness and gossiping.

The door materialized, and Draco waited for Hermione's cue to move. She seemed nervous now. Draco reached out a hand and touched her elbow.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. A few curls sprang free from her bun, and she blew them out of her face. "Shall we, then?"

Draco opened the door to reveal _not_ the cabinet's junk room, thankfully, but something else entirely. This room was large but not vast, with a blazing fireplace on the opposite wall and a long, cushy settee placed just in front of it. Curtains hung along the walls and matched the soft, shaggy rug on the floor.

Wrinkling his nose despite himself, Draco turned to Hermione. "Red and gold, really?"

This time she didn't get bashful, though, and instead she raised an eyebrow mischievously his way.

"Sorry," she said, "I would have made it green and silver, except I wanted it to look nice."

Draco clapped a hand over his heart. "You've wounded me deeply."

She grinned at him, closing the door carefully to make sure they wouldn't be disturbed. Hermione then eyed Draco, somewhat warily, before walking over to the couch. She kicked off her trainers and sat, legs folded under herself.

Suddenly a little afraid, Draco joined her. Here the fire's warmth made his skin prick with discomfort; he shed his outer cloak and rolled up his sleeves, all the while aware that Hermione watched his every move.

 _This is it, isn't it?_ he thought. _I get to know her, she gets to know me. If she doesn't like what she hears, then she's gone._

Gulping back his fear, Draco looked directly into Hermione's golden eyes.

"So," he said, "Where do we begin?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading!

I know I said I'd do Harry's POV, but I decided to hold that off for another moment. I wanted to use Snape's here instead. Firstly we never got to see the real scene unfold, we just sat with Harry and eavesdropped in the book, so this helped us to be present. Plus, Snape.

Speaking of Snape... I like the idea that he knew Harry was there the whole time. It says in the book that he exited the room "with an unfathomable look on his face," which most likely referred to his feelings about the spat with Draco, but it suits our needs here as well. You might expect him to have stopped the moment he thought they were being watched, but I kept them on for two reasons: if the eavesdropper was in contact with Death Eaters, then Snape was trying to get Draco to verbally change his mind and commit to killing Dumbledore. Secondly, it's Snape, he's cautious and not very spur-of-the-moment, so he was still feeling it out.

 _Hpfan addict_ , glad to see you're back in action! I've been hoping to see more of your long-winded reviews. You inspired me to make the "enchanted paper" in one of your earlier reviews. You're right, when Hermione wants to communicate, she's clever enough to find a way.

Yes, we finally met Myrtle. It was brief, but that won't be the last we see of her bathroom - we have a big scene coming up toward the end of their year, and I have _big_ plans for it. ;)

So, to balance out how short and choppy this chapter is, guess where we'll be dwelling in the next one? That's right, room of requirement. Plenty of Dramione to work with, there. And guess who has an entire day to write? This girl!

Look for an update soon!

Penny


	24. The Room of Requirement

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Room of Requirement**

"So, where do we begin?"

Draco's question hung in the air. He watched Hermione chew it over, worrying her lip as she did so. He wondered if, later that evening, he'd get to bite on that lip too.

 _Not now,_ he thought, pulling himself back to the present. _Think about what to say, you idiot._

"We should start from the beginning," Hermione said decidedly.

"Yours or mine?" Draco asked.

"Yours."

"Ah." Draco thought back to as far as he could remember. She couldn't truly be interested in all _that_ , could she?

"Tell me everything," Hermione demanded, as though she'd read his mind. She brought her knees up and rested her chin on them, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Alright..." Draco leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Everything. Got it... Well, er, I guess the very first thing I remember is watching my father do magic."

Hermione perked up. "Magic? That's your first memory?"

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Her eyebrows drew together. "I just... You grew up with magic, I didn't think it would seem very special to you."

"Why not?" Draco asked. "It's still magic. Maybe it was because I knew I couldn't do those things yet, but one day I would."

"I suppose that makes sense..." Hermione still looked taken aback, though. "I'm sorry, go on. Your father did magic."

"Right. He and my mother would sit in my room each night, her reading stories while he drew up little scenes with his wand. He was quite good at it. I remember that sometimes we'd stop to argue about whether a character should have a hat, or if his house should be bigger or smaller.

"I don't think a single evening went by where they didn't do that," Draco said contentedly, getting lost in the memory. "All the way until my tenth birthday. I think my father expected me to outgrow it. I'm still not sure I did."

"That's lovely," Hermione said. "I can't imagine, though - sorry, but your father -"

"He's a hard person," Draco said. "He always has been. But he loves his family." He looked down. "I can't imagine how difficult it is for him to be away."

They sat in silence for a moment, with only the fire crackling in the background. Hermione reached over and placed a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"It's okay if you'd rather not," she told him.

Draco gave her a small smile. "No, it's fine. Well not _fine_ , really, but... I'm just not going to think about it."

At Hermione's encouraging nod, Draco continued.

"All right, then... Let's see. I was homeschooled, like most pureblood kids are. My mom did most of that. She taught me about wizarding history, family trees, and how to read and write. She hates math, though, so my father helped with that.

"It seemed like every other week there was a party or event of some kind, and they stuffed me into these awful robes - I like to dress well now, but back then I was just a kid, and I hated it - and I was paraded about like a show dog. Really. You wouldn't believe it. I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut, but all my parents friends just wanted to poke and prod and - I don't know, _inspect_ me. I don't even know how many times they mentioned that so-and-so had a lovely daughter, wouldn't we be a pair, or some rubbish like that.

"I wanted brothers, but my parents, apparently, did not. Now I'm grateful there's just me. More presents at Christmas, you know." He glanced up to see if Hermione knew he was joking; judging by the warm smile on her face, she did. "I wish I could be home. Christmas is my mother's favorite holiday. She'll be lonely."

"I'm sorry you're not with her," Hermione said quietly. "Why did you stay at Hogwarts, then?"

Draco shook his head. He wished he could say, but he couldn't. At least, not until he had a plan.

"She told me it wasn't safe to come home," he lied. "Death Eaters all over the place. Not only that, but they have Greyback - Fenrir Greyback - and he's a bloody _werewolf._ "

"Professor Lupin was a werewolf."

"Oh." Draco backpedalled quickly. "Well, not to say that's horrible - I mean, it is, it must be awful - but it's not the same. Greyback talks about killing, he loves it. He talks about how people _taste_ , for fuck's - oh, sorry." His face got hot, but Hermione didn't seem fazed by his language. "Er - I think I heard that. That Lupin was a werewolf. You reckon it's true?"

"I saw it for myself," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Between you and me, it wasn't an accident when Buckbeak escaped in our third year. That night was... Interesting."

Draco frowned. "You helped break - Buckbeak, was it? You helped break him out? What did Lupin have to do with that?"

"It was a full moon."

"Oh."

He processed this information carefully. If Hermione had seen Lupin as a werewolf... Bloody hell, how close would she have been? Draco looked Hermione in the eye, his expression just short of glaring. "You need to be more careful than that. You could have gotten yourself killed."

Hermione drew herself up indignantly. "It couldn't be helped, trust me. And I _am_ careful, thank you very much."

He merely crossed his arms with a _hmph_.

"Will you keep going?" Hermione asked, that curious expression returning to her face. "It's terribly interesting, really."

"I don't know, it sounds like _you_ have a lot to tell _me_ about." Draco raised an eyebrow at her. It was true, he didn't like not knowing about all of her escapades with Potter and Weasley.

Hermione looked like he'd caught her off-guard, but to her credit, she nodded slowly.

"Yes, I suppose I do," she said.

Draco waited for her to gather her thoughts. He tried his best to appear relaxed, but in reality, he wanted to sit on the edge of his seat and listen keenly.

"So I suppose, starting with that night in our third year..." Hermione tapped her lip, thinking hard. "Well, to start, McGonagall gave me a time-turner that year. It had a lot to do with -"

"Hang on," Draco cut in, "Did you say a _time-turner?_ "

"Yes?"

"A time-turner, made for _going back in bloody time_ , and they gave one to a third-year student?"

Hermione bristled. "Well not just _any_ third-year, Draco. And it wasn't just to use willy-nilly, it was to take additional _classes_ -"

"I knew it." Draco nearly jumped off the couch. "I _knew_ it. I remember seeing you in almost two places at once, this one time - thought I'd gone mad. Time-turner. It explains _everything_."

"Does it?" Hermione asked nervously, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I was really very careful..."

"Not careful enough, as it turns out." Draco grinned, quite pleased with himself.

"Oh shut up," Hermione snapped, though she didn't sound mad. Her cheeks had flushed bright pink. " _Anyway_ , as I was saying... Yes, I had a time-turner. Unfortunately, I think we destroyed them all when we -" she paused. "No, I suppose you heard about that. Last year, we went to the Department of Mysteries, and got ambushed by Death Eaters. We fought. I think we destroyed the ministry's stash of time-turners that night."

"Why did you go in the first place?" Draco asked, leaning forward.

"It was... Well, it was complicated," Hermione said. "I'm not sure it's my secret to tell, but it had to do with Harry. We got word that his godfather, Sirius -"

"Sirius _Black?_ "

"Yes, Sirius Black. We got word that he was in danger, and being held at the Department of Mysteries. As it turned out, it was a trap."

Draco knew all about the Department of Mysteries - he'd been there. Not that Hermione knew about that. And she wouldn't need to.

What _really_ caught Draco's interest was learning that Sirius Black was actually Harry Potter's godfather. Who knew? But it suddenly made sense. Draco remembered hearing about how his Aunt Bella cast the curse which killed Black, and she'd been so excited over it. So while Black was a wanted fugitive, he apparently wasn't on the Death Eaters' side.

"Well, I had figured it was a trap," Hermione continued. "I knew, it just seemed too easy... But the last time it had happened, we ended up saving Mr. Weasley's life, so I didn't want to be the one to say we couldn't go."

"You knew it was a trap, but you went anyway?" Draco asked. "But Sirius Black wasn't _your_ godfather, it really didn't concern you."

Hermione blinked. She tilted her head. "Of course it concerned me, Draco. My friends were in danger. I had to help them."

 _Bloody Gryffindor pride and heroics,_ Draco thought, but he had to consider her words. Would _he_ put himself in danger, had it been Blaise running off into harm's way? He liked to think he would. After all, that night in the Department of Mysteries, when Blaise made to charge back in - now Draco knew, he'd done so for Luna's sake - Draco had intended to go in with him, hadn't he?

Except he hadn't.

"You nearly got killed in there," he said, mostly to keep his mind off of feeling guilty. Then he caught himself. "I heard, anyway."

Hermione looked away, staring at the fire. Her eyes glittered in its light, making her lovelier than ever despite the serious look on her face.

"It shouldn't have happened," she said. "I wasn't being vigilant. I let myself get distracted - I thought I saw - oh, nevermind. I won't let my guard down again."

Draco wondered what she'd been about to say. Surely she hadn't seen _him_ , had she?

He tugged on his collar, something he seemed to do quite often in Hermione's presence. He unclasped the top button and breathed deeply.

"I hope you won't find yourself in _need_ of keeping your guard up, honestly," he said. "You don't have to keep running into battle like that. I know they're your friends, but if Potter and Weasley really cared about you, then they wouldn't -"

"They care," she said flatly. "It was my choice, not theirs. It's always been my choice, Draco."

He ground his teeth together, not entirely satisfied with that response.

"I'd do the same for you, you know," Hermione said.

Draco looked up. She didn't seem to find anything special about what she'd just said, because she merely stared at the fire like before, but her words sank in and took hold of Draco's complete attention.

"You would?"

"Yes, of course I would."

"Don't," Draco said, shaking his head. "Not for me. I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt. Seeing it once was enough..."

Hermione turned to him. "'Seeing it once?' What do you mean?"

 _Shite_.

"Oh, er..." Draco thought quickly. "I just - I saw you in the hospital wing last year, that's all."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "You... Visited?"

Draco felt his face growing warm again. Really, he needed to get a hold of himself.

"Yes," he answered honestly. Then he sighed, giving up. "Every night, actually."

He wasn't sure how she'd react to that - for instance, she might slap him and call him a stalker - and Draco winced in anticipation. When Hermione didn't immediately start telling him off, he glanced up cautiously.

Hermione stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise and something else. He couldn't tell what. Her mouth had fallen open and she couldn't seem to remember how to close it again. It made Draco vaguely proud to have gotten the great Hermione Granger so ruffled.

Her expression softened, and she reached her hand out again, this time much slower than before. She looked unsure of herself. Her fingertips brushed across Draco's cheek, and she leaned forward.

Apparently he'd said the right thing.

Draco felt his heart begin to thud in his chest, and he grasped her hand in his own, pressing it against the side of his face. Her hands were just so small and smooth. Not only that, but her touch was electric. He shifted, turning to face her. Hermione's eyes darted up to his own, and she looked so vulnerable - but the way her eyebrows tilted up made her seem hopeful, too. Draco prayed that this was okay.

He moved into her, running a hand back through her hair. She quickly tugged on her bun, releasing her wild curls from it, and Draco raked his fingers through the soft locks. Her eyes closed.

Though he was shaking with nerves, Draco tried to steel himself over. He didn't kiss her just yet; instead, he leaned over Hermione, gently guiding her to recline back on the couch. Her eyes popped open when he touched her hip, but at his light push, she pulled her legs up onto the couch as well.

Draco paused, braced directly over a very anxious Hermione Granger. He moved slowly, settling his knee between hers - at first she'd gasped, drawing her legs together firmly. When Draco stopped moving and cast her a particularly reassuring look, however, she relaxed.

"It's okay," he said, running a hand through her hair again. "We won't do anything you don't want. Just tell me and I'll stop."

"Okay," Hermione breathed. He could feel her shaking already.

She reached up her small, trembling hands, and began unfastening the buttons of Draco's shirt. His breath hitched - he hadn't expected her to be so forward - and when she popped open the last one, he raised himself up and stripped off the garment.

Hermione placed her hands over Draco's flat stomach.

 _Times like these, a six-pack would really be nice_ , he thought half-heartedly. Hermione, however, didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. She studied his torso with care, brushing her fingertips over every inch of it, her mouth still slightly open. It might have been wishful thinking on Draco's part, but he thought he read awe in her expression.

Draco leaned down again, settling himself with minimal weight placed on Hermione - though by now he wanted to press into her every curve and leave no space between - and he couldn't wait any more.

He pulled her in and kissed her. She moved with him, wrapping an arm around his neck, trailing her other hand across his back. Her small mouth opened with a light gasp when Draco's hips pressed into hers - he paused, but she dug her fingernails into his skin, urging him on.

Hermione moaned when Draco bit her lower lip - _finally_ , he thought to himself - and he slid an arm underneath her shoulders, lifting her up to him. In response she let her head fall back, breathing shallowly. He kissed his way across her jaw, then down her throat.

When Draco reached the base of her neck, the delicate curve leading to her shoulder - and more important things - he felt his pulse pick up even faster than before. She could stop him at any time. Would she?

He sucked on the smooth skin just above her collarbone, not realizing that she'd stopped moving.

"Draco," she whispered.

Draco froze, pulling himself away despite the urge to continue. He drew in a deep, calming breath before meeting Hermione's gaze.

"I'm sorry," he said, "We'll stop."

"No," Hermione said. "It's just... My sweater..."

It took Draco a few second to understand. He stared into Hermione's golden eyes, which seemed so conflicted, his pulse picking up again.

"You're sure?" he asked quietly.

She nodded.

Draco sat back on his heel, lifting Hermione's shoulders with him. She gave him a nervous smile, then grasped the bottom hem of her shirt.

"Wait," he said. He cupped her face in his hand, looking her over seriously. "You're really okay with this?"

She merely nodded again, but this time more determinedly. She pulled the hem of her sweater up over her head, tossing it unceremoniously on the floor with Draco's forgotten clothing.

He sucked in his breath. Hermione glanced up at him bashfully, but didn't try to cover herself. Her lightly-tanned skin, smoother and more flawless over her stomach and chest, was complimented nicely by a dainty, rose-pink bra. The lacy fabric clung to her small breasts.

"You're perfect," he said, looking purposely back to her face.

Hermione let out a breath, then fell back onto the couch. "I'm glad you think so."

"Why _wouldn't_ I?" Draco asked, leaning back over her. He brushed a curl out of her face.

Apparently she didn't feel the need to answer; Hermione had a hand in Draco's hair and was pulling him close before he could react. She kissed him deeply, wrapping her legs around his waist.

 _Bloody hell..._

He ran his free hand down her side, pressing into her exposed skin. Goosebumps rose up in his wake, making him smirk happily. Digging his fingers into her side, Draco raked them back up, this time drawing his hand over her breast; it felt perfect and soft in his palm.

Hermione broke away this time, breathing almost as heavily as Draco, and she began placing open-mouthed kissed over his chest.

That did it. Draco growled hungrily - he went to turn them about, and had an idea in his head to get Hermione straddling him on the couch, but he slipped -

The pair tumbled to the floor, Hermione landing on top of Draco with a surprised gasp.

This didn't deter them in the slightest.

...

The pair didn't go much further that night, but Draco felt utterly content with that. They'd spent the next hour lazing on the rug, alternating between snogging passionately and laying quietly together, Hermione nestled into his shoulder. It reminded him greatly of the morning on the Astronomy Tower.

They didn't fall asleep together that time. No, he wasn't sure Hermione would be entirely comfortable with that (though Draco himself liked the idea quite a bit) and so he didn't push it. Instead he pulled her up, helped her get her sweater back on, and walked her back to Gryffindor Tower.

They established a kind of rhythm after that; Draco spent his days working on the vanishing cabinet, always with that parchment in his pocket, and at dinner he'd write back and forth with Hermione. It always ended with an invitation to meet up later in the evening, which he always accepted.

He had a difficult time focusing that week.

On Tuesday morning, after four incredible evenings spent with Hermione, Draco sat up straight in bed. He rubbed his face, suddenly concerned - Christmas was the next day, and he had no idea what to do about it. Would Hermione bring him a gift? What if he got her something, and she hadn't done the same? Not that he'd mind, but she might be put-off or embarrassed. And besides all that, what was he supposed to get her?

Draco slumped back into his pillows. He had a lot of planning to do.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry it's kind of short... I hoped to make up for that with content. ;)

So we'll dwell in the RoR over Christmas break for the next chapter or so, then we need to move on with the more troubling plot points. Sad, but so important. Angst is in our future.

I intended to reveal more about Draco's childhood, as well as Hermione's, but I let the conversation take me where it needed to go and that was that. I'll have more conversation soon.

Thank you all so very much for your reviews. Shout-out to: _hpfan addict, Frogster, viola1701e, MissesE, morganna12, EssTheWriter, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, WickedRelations, tbeth, miskachick, chachavip, Misha Young, .16, Somnus Verus,_ and _BlueOcean24124487_. You guys have been keeping up recently and are always encouraging. Also, thank you for pointing out little typos - I do go back and fix those. :)

I look forward to hearing your responses to this bit of fluff. Hope it lives up to your wildest (T-rated) expectations.

Penny


	25. The Very Bad Day

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Very Bad Day**

Draco paced in the corridor, chewing his thumbnail and trying to convince himself this was necessary. He'd decided to get Hermione something simple - just some chocolates in Hogsmeade - the trouble was, now he'd need to actually _get_ them. Which would require permission.

Snape's office door had remained shut tightly all morning, resolute and uninviting.

 _The one time it would be handy to have a different Head of House,_ he thought bitterly. Their last interaction hadn't gone very well, after all. He nearly jumped when, mid-step, the door flew open.

"Are you going to come in, or did you plan on wearing a hole in the floor with that _incessant_ pacing?"

Snape, pale and greasy-haired, stared down at Draco. He frowned more deeply than usual.

"Happy Christmas, professor," Draco said. "Er - can I come in?"

After receiving a formidable scowl, Draco shrugged his way through the door, careful to give Snape a wide berth.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Snape asked, voice tight.

"I - er - wanted to ask something," Draco said. He drew in a breath. "I'd like to go to Hogsmeade today, sir. I know it's not a Hogsmeade weekend, but I thought -"

"No."

"No?" Draco repeated automatically.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You have work to do here, Draco. Do not believe for a moment that I will encourage your procrastination. The Dark Lord is already displeased with you."

"He is?" This was news to Draco. He looked for a seat to sink into, but settled for leaning against Snape's desk for support. "Why?"

"Because of your _inaction_ , that's why," Snape hissed. "I had precious little to tell him, when questioned on your progress. You are very lucky I am a skilled Occlumens, Draco. Otherwise your unwillingness to cooperate would have been on full display."

Draco closed his eyes. So much for enjoying his Christmas.

"Though while you're here..." Snape continued. Draco looked up. "I have received word from your mother. She sent this for you." He indicated a large glass bottle that sat on his desk; Draco hadn't noticed it before, but looking at it now, it seemed quite old. "Your next move is being... Taken care of."

A distinct sense of unease crept through Draco.

"My next move?" he asked slowly.

Snape's eyes darkened, and he looked away. "Dumbledore, Draco."

Draco chewed this over. He didn't like that the plan was going through despite his efforts to ignore it. It was supposed to be _his_ scheme, anyway... If he decided to drop it, then Dumbledore should be safe.

It seemed that wasn't actually the case.

"I see," Draco said, voice low. Now he _really_ wanted to sit down.

"I hope that you do," Snape said. "And I suggest you return to work on the vanishing cabinet. They expect it to be in working order by the end of the month."

"That's not long enough!" Draco protested immediately.

Snape cut him off with a raise of his hand. "It will _need_ to be long enough."

 _Fuck me_ , Draco thought miserably. Only an hour ago his main concern had been what flavor of chocolates to get Hermione. Now he had to face reality, or face Voldemort's wrath.

 _Or more likely, both._

"I noticed you're still keeping _questionable_ company," Snape went on.

Draco winced. "Says who?"

"Don't be a fool," Snape snapped. "You think I can't see it? A student who previously _never_ studied during meals, now spends his dinners scribbling on one lousy piece of parchment? His object of _lamentable_ interest doing the same?"

Draco's heart dropped a little more with each word. He'd thought they were so careful...

"You would do well to end it now," Snape said.

"Maybe I won't," Draco replied, lifting his chin. "Maybe my _lamentable_ interest isn't so bad after all, okay?"

Snape slammed his palms down on the desk, suddenly angry. Draco flinched back, stumbling a bit as he shuffled away.

"Do you not _see?_ " Snape growled. "It's not only for _your_ sake that I warn you. If you keep at this, Miss Granger will be targeted. She will perish because of _your_ immature folly. Can you live with that on your hands, Draco?"

Heart pounding, Draco watched his professor with wide eyes. He'd never seen Snape come undone like that.

But aside from surprise at Snape's outburst... Draco had to admit, it rang with truth. An unfortunate truth that he'd been avoiding for months now, if not years.

Blaise's words, almost forgotten, crept through Draco's head: _She's not an option. She never was._

"I don't want her to get hurt," Draco said softly.

"Then you'd do well to drop it now. Was there anything else you needed?"

Draco shook his head, unable to meet Snape's eye. "That was all, professor. I'll go."

Some ruddy Christmas this turned out to be.

...

While sitting alone during dinner, pushing his potatoes around his plate in disinterest, Draco felt his pocket get warm. He hadn't been able to part with Hermione's magicked note, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to in the future, but for now he'd need to ignore it. After all, Snape sat only so far away, up at the professor's table with the rest of the faculty. By now Hagrid was hiccuping loudly, cheeks rosy, and sharing jokes with McGonagall and Sprout; on Snape's end of the table, no one spoke.

He pocket continued heating up.

 _Take a hint, won't you?_ he thought. He knew he didn't mean it, though.

Finally, when his leg began burning to an unbearable point, Draco slid the paper out of his pocket. It felt cool on the skin of his hand, oddly enough. Draco unfolded it and scanned it quickly.

 _Are you alright? You don't look well,_ it said.

Draco frowned down at it, resisting the urge to look up at Hermione. He knew he probably didn't look well; he didn't _feel_ well. The prospect of calling things off with his newly-acquired girlfriend - if that was the right word - made him feel queasy. Maybe he could at least put it off until after Christmas...

Finally making up his mind to reply, Draco watched the little makeshift quill form with impatience. It fell into his palm. He scribbled quickly.

 _Bad day_ , he wrote simply. Then, after cringing at himself, he continued. _See you tonight?_

 _What's wrong?_

Draco frowned, growing annoyed with Hermione's need-to-know attitude. How was he supposed to keep her safe and out of the way when she refused to let things go? But, at the same time, wasn't that curiosity exactly what made Hermione... Well, _Hermione?_

 _Later_ , he wrote. He could almost feel the paper heating up again, bursting with Hermione's questions. With a sigh, he wrote on.

 _Snape knows._

He stared at the paper, but no response bloomed onto its surface. One long minute ticked by, and Draco chanced a look up. Hermione sat at her table, now apparently quite content, sipping from a goblet. She stared at an open Daily Prophet.

Draco smiled. Her paper wasn't in sight; she must've gotten the message.

Of course, none of this changed their awful situation. Snape's words still floated around in Draco's head, but it was the passion behind them that struck a chord... By now, Draco was almost certain that Snape had some terrible backstory behind that facade of apathy. He'd always known that the man cared more than he let on, but to see him that angry...

Draco's thoughts drifted helplessly, unwilling to trail back to Hermione. He chewed on a heel of bread, but it was tasteless on his tongue. After a few minutes of trying to convince himself to eat more, Draco pushed away from the table and left the hall.

...

Draco sat against the wall outside of the Room of Requirement, his posture more slumped than usual, and he waited quietly for Hermione to arrive. He'd been equally dreading and welcoming this moment all day, and it still felt like his brain couldn't decide how to feel about it.

Right on cue, light footsteps came hurrying up the corridor. When Draco looked up, he saw a very breathless-looking Hermione. She didn't stop at the entrance of the room, however. She instead gave Draco a significant look and walked directly past him, her lit wand held aloft as usual.

Draco scrambled to his feet, then managed to catch up in a few short strides.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Someone's following me," Hermione whispered, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Draco felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. The only person he could think to suspect was Snape. Glancing quickly over his shoulder, Draco saw nothing but shadows.

"How do you know?" he asked, dropping his voice. Hermione led him down a staircase, her pace quickening as they reached the bottom.

"I could hear them," she said. "Their steps are heavier than mine, almost like yours… They've kept up."

Draco faltered, but still kept pace quite easily. Hermione's shorter legs had to work hard to take her anywhere quickly, so he had the advantage there.

"Snape wouldn't be heard, he knows better," Draco said slowly.

Hermione nodded. "That's what I thought, too."

Hermione led them down another corridor, then eventually they found themselves at the moving staircases. She grasped Draco's arm and dragged him onto the first set of stairs to arrive.

"Who else would follow you?" Draco asked, feeling much better once the staircase got moving.

Hermione didn't answer, but instead chewed on her lip, a worried expression on her face. The pair took the next corridor at a run, and after a few turns - which had Draco very thoroughly lost, though Hermione seemed to know what she was doing - she suddenly halted in front of a statue.

" _Dissendium_ ," she hissed.

By the time Draco realized what had happened, Hermione had opened the hump of the hump-backed witch, and pushed him inside. He stumbled, and the ground fell away. If he hadn't been so intent on hiding from their pursuer, then he would have yelped in surprise. Thankfully the drop was short, and it leveled out near the bottom, so Draco merely tumbled to a slow stop. A moment later Hermione's wand went out, washing them in darkness, and she collapsed onto him with a shocked " _Oh!_ "

They both froze, listening intently. Draco counted the seconds, wondering how long they'd need to wait before they were safe; about half a minute later, he heard footsteps from above, and he felt Hermione go rigid. The steps didn't pause whatsoever, but merely continued until they faded away.

Relieved - but not entirely sure why he was frightened in the first place - Draco let his head fall back onto the ground. He felt Hermione lay her head on his chest, apparently just as exhausted.

"That was close," Hermione said.

" _What_ was close, though?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "But if anyone finds out about the come-and-go room, we won't be safe meeting there anymore."

"Snape knows."

Hermione went still. Draco reached up and wrapped his arms around her small frame, taking a moment to enjoy having her near. Her cloak felt grimy, which made Draco wonder what they were both covered in after that fall.

"Help me find my wand," Hermione said, disentangling herself from Draco. He rolled over, and the two began patting the ground aimlessly. Draco realized that the floor felt like dirt, which was probably what got them all messy. He frowned unhappily at this.

"How do you know about this place?" he asked, unable to hide the disgust in his voice.

Hermione laughed. "Can't stand a little dirt, can you? Oh, here it is. _Lumos_."

Light filled the small space, blinding Draco for a moment. He blinked. They had actually tumbled into a tunnel of some kind, but to where Draco couldn't guess. They sat on the dirt floor, and patches of dusty brown marred Draco's pants, shoes, and shirt. He scowled.

"And to answer your question, Harry showed it to us," Hermione continued, brushing off her sleeves. It did little to help.

"Potter? _Wait_ ," Draco looked up the short slope, toward the hump-backed witch, then craned his neck to stare down the rest of the tunnel. "It goes to Hogsmeade, doesn't it? _That's_ how Potter kept sneaking out during third year!"

Hermione, to her credit, didn't look particularly pleased about this either, and muttered something like "always has to break the rules" under her breath. She ran a hand through her hair, which looked considerably wilder than usual. It was getting long, well past her shoulders now.

Draco, his heart still beating fast from their escape-of-sorts, leaned back against the wall. He watched Hermione untangle her crazy locks, not quite sure where this left them.

"So," he said, "Any thoughts on the mysterious stalker?"

Hermione sighed, slumping against the opposite wall.

"I'm back to thinking Snape, actually," she answered, rubbing her face tiredly. She smeared dirt across her cheek unknowingly, though Draco was too distracted to notice.

"But - I thought we said -"

"I know, Draco," Hermione cut in, "But what if he wasn't _trying_ to sneak up on us? Maybe he wanted to scare us off, instead. And let's face it, we have no idea who else it would be."

Draco chewed this over. Would Snape go through all this trouble just to scare them off? He wasn't sure. It seemed more like Snape's style to sneak around and then confront them directly, and Draco knew first-hand that Snape wouldn't be seen or heard if he didn't want to be. Instead of arguing the point, though, Draco just nodded slowly.

They sat in silence for a few long moments. Draco wondered what time it was.

"Some way to spend Christmas, huh?" he said. "I'm sorry I got you wrapped up in this."

"Don't be silly," Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. She smiled. "Besides, it looks like I'm handling the dirt much better than you are."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Only because it's smeared over half your face, maybe."

At that, Hermione blushed immediately, though it was difficult to tell in the dim lighting. She pulled up the sleeve of her cloak and started scrubbing at her face.

"Wait - you're just getting it everywhere," Draco said, grinning now. He pulled out his wand and leaned forward, gently taking the hem of Hermione's cloak. She stopped fussing.

" _Scorgify_ ," Draco said, and the dirt on the fabric flaked away. " _Aguamenti_."

He raised the edge of the cloak, now clean and damp, up to Hermione's cheek, and to Draco's mild surprise, she didn't object. Gently wiping at her face, and trying not to look into her eyes, Draco's thoughts returned to Snape's dismal prediction.

 _She will perish due to your immature folly. Can you live with that on your hands, Draco?_

"I - I think it'll take more than just this to get cleaned up," Draco said, trying to steady his voice. His hand was shaking. He pulled away. "Think it's safe to head out?"

Something passed over Hermione's face, not that Draco could tell what, and she watched him carefully.

"Something's wrong," she said. "You said you had a bad day... Tell me about it."

Draco shook his head, trying to come up with an excuse. "I can't think with all this dirt everywhere. Let's go."

Hermione didn't question him like Draco expected, but merely fixed him with a concerned stare. She watched him get up, then accepted his extended hand, and they made their way back up the slope toward the hump-backed witch.

They strode slowly through the corridors this time, listening intently for another set of footsteps, but this time none came.

Draco didn't like the idea that someone had been following Hermione around, and it occurred to him that it might've even been unrelated to their excursions and Draco's Death Eater connections. What if someone had followed Hermione, just to follow _Hermione?_

He ground his teeth together. It wasn't as likely, he didn't think, especially since the stalker hadn't backed off once they'd met up outside of the Room of Requirement. In a small way, that was a relief - Draco could handle worrying about Snape, or someone snooping around where they shouldn't be, but the idea of some creep following Hermione around made him feel ill.

Still, to be safe, Draco led her directly to Gryffindor Tower.

"Look..." he said, and Hermione's face fell.

"We can't keep doing this, can we?" she asked, her voice soft.

Draco shook his head. Maybe this was for the better. He put a hand under Hermione's chin and lifted her face, though she didn't seem to want to look at him. His stomach dropped a little when he realized how disappointed she seemed.

"I need you to be careful," Draco said. "We don't know what they - whoever _they_ are - well, we don't know what they want. Just... Don't do anything, well -"

"Don't do anything stupid," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "I'll be careful. Promise me you'll be careful too, okay?"

Draco nodded.

"I mean, I can walk you down to the dungeons, if you'd like -"

He rolled his eyes. "I think I can take it from here, 'Mione. But thanks."

Hermione blinked. It took a moment for Draco to realize what he'd called her, and for a split-second he felt sheer panic - the last time he'd called her 'Mione, she'd stormed off in a fit of rage, after all.

"Sorry," Draco said. "I didn't mean -"

"It's alright," Hermione said. "It's... It's alright."

She put a small hand on Draco's arm, then reached up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Draco wanted to grab her shoulders and tell her to stay just a while longer... But he didn't. He let her go.

"Good night, Draco," Hermione said softly.

"Good night, 'Mione," he replied.

She disappeared behind the portrait, but Draco wasn't watching. He wasn't thinking about anything except how empty he felt, how this didn't feel right. The only thing that felt right anymore had just left him for the night, and he wanted her back.

Draco's legs carried him down corridor after corridor, past flights of stairs, and he didn't take any of it in. Aside from lighting his wand with a hushed " _lumos_ ," he remained trapped in his own thoughts, unaware of anything else.

At some point his path changed, and he no longer strode toward the dungeons. At some point, he made a detour, and pushed open the heavy door to a deserted lavatory.

" _Oooh_ , you don't look so good."

Moaning Myrtle, floating above the toilet stalls in all her pale and transparent glory, adjusted her glasses and peered down at Draco.

"I'm not here to talk," he said simply. He fell against the wall, slumped over in defeat. It was all too much - not just Hermione, but the vanishing cabinet, the mission to kill Dumbledore... He was just a _kid_. His biggest worry was supposed to be passing his N.E.W.T.s next year.

Wrapping his arms around his legs, Draco buried his face and went very still. He sat like that for a long time, trying not to think, before Myrtle drifted down and sat beside him, her usual taunting and wailing put on hold for now.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Prepare yourselves. It's about to get a bit dark.

Love you all,

Penny


	26. The Warning

**Chapter Twenty-Five: The Warning**

Hermione sat in the common room, which had by now filled to the brim with students, and she chewed absentmindedly on her thumbnail. She hadn't spoken to Draco much in the days since Christmas, but that wasn't what had her so preoccupied; it seemed that Harry and Ron had a very eventful holiday as well. At least Ron's face had gotten a nice reprieve from Lavender's constant barrage of kissing - not that anyone could tell, now. She'd dragged him off to a corner of the room already and sat herself in his lap. Hermione made sure to shoot them a disapproving look every few minutes.

But even Ron - or "Won-Won," these days - wasn't at the top of Hermione's list of concerns. Harry hadn't wasted much time in sitting Hermione down and explaining that he'd eavesdropped on a conversation between Draco and Snape before the break. Hermione couldn't decide which she'd prefer, that Harry knew all about Draco's plans so he could pass them along to her, or that he knew nothing at all. In reality, Harry hadn't learned anything very new to Hermione's ears.

That hadn't stopped her from trying to argue him out of it. Really, her best friend was going to be the reason her boyfriend - er, something like that anyway - ended up expelled or worse.

Almost more interesting than that, however, was hearing about the Minister's visit at the Burrow. Hermione was astounded at the man's nerve… How could he expect Harry's help, after all the Ministry put him through?

"Oy, look here," called Dean Thomas. He stood over by the portrait-hole, where a conspicuously large poster had been plastered up. "Apparition lessons!"

All at once, students in the common room jumped up and crowded around. Hermione, meanwhile, just buried her face in her hands. She didn't want to worry about apparition, or classes, or Harry's stupidly dangerous potions book. She just wanted to go back to the beginning of Christmas break, where she could look forward to being with Draco each evening.

However much Hermione wanted to ignore her classes, though, they resumed as usual. It turned out to be a welcome distraction, since she hadn't been able to spot Draco during mealtimes. He didn't answer her messages, either, but she decided not to think too much about it. Thankfully her first patrol night came and went without any sign of being followed, either.

Finally, their first potions lesson of the term arrived, and Hermione made sure to get to class early. She'd even arranged her mess of hair a bit, so at least it was out of her face. By the time other students began filing in, she felt jittery with nerves, not really sure what to expect from Draco.

Unfortunately, she never got the chance to see; by the time most of her classmates had arrived, Slughorn came bounding into the room, clearly quite excited about today's lesson.

"Settle down, please!" he called, already scrawling away on the chalkboard. "Quickly now! Lots of work this afternoon! Golpalott's Third Law - who can tell me?"

Hermione's hand had, instinctively, shot into the air.

"But Miss Granger can, of course!"

"Golpalott's Third Law," she recited, "States that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components." It was correct, of course, and Slughorn seemed delighted. While he went on about it, Hermione glanced over her shoulder - there, at the back next to Blaise, sat Draco.

He stared at Hermione for a long moment, then looked down to his desk.

"... And don't forget your protective gloves!"

Realizing that Slughorn had just given them their assignment, Hermione hopped out of her seat. She retrieved a phial from the front of the room and made it back to her table before anyone else even reacted, which gave her a pretty clear view. Draco hadn't stirred yet, much like everyone else. He still stared resolutely down at his notes.

 _That's not good_ , Hermione thought, growing worried. She'd hoped that he'd give her some sign that things were okay, but instead things seemed worse than expected.

Emptying the phial into her cauldron, Hermione noticed that Harry was staring, perplexed, at his potions book.

"Looks like the Prince can't help you this time," she said, though it felt half-hearted at this point. "You need to know the _principles_. No shortcuts."

As it turned out, she was wrong. After an hour of working furiously - and doing quite well, to boot - Hermione still hadn't quite achieved when Slughorn was after. By the time he called their work to a halt, Hermione was nearly finished, not that it mattered. Her jaw dropped when Harry presented his "antidote:" a bloody _bezoar._

Clenching her teeth, Hermione crossed her arms. This was getting ridiculous.

…

Try as she might to contact Draco, Hermione couldn't reach him. He wasn't returning her messages, and he'd gone back to slipping in and out of class before she had a chance to say anything to him. She never saw him at meals anymore, either. The first week, Hermione tried to be patient… The week after that, she got nervous. What if he didn't _want_ to see her anymore? What if he'd changed his mind?

She spent all of her free time in the library, trying to research the "Half-Blood Prince" (much to Harry's dismay) but she hardly found a thing. The only relevant fact Hermione picked up had to do with an Eileen Prince, which Harry found laughable, claiming he knew that the Prince was male. He just _knew_. Thankfully that topic seemed _infinitely_ more important than romance, as painful as it was to admit sometimes, but no matter how hard Hermione looked she couldn't find much of anything. By the end of January she'd ended more than one night by crying in some corner of the library, usually out of sheer frustration, but sometimes out of much more than that.

Then, finally, February arrived, and with it came apparition lessons.

Hermione walked down to the Great Hall with Harry, and when they entered to find the tables gone and all four Heads of Houses present, she realized she'd probably see Draco here. He wouldn't skip apparition lessons, would he?

"Good morning, my name is Wilkie Twycross," announced a small man, once they were ready to begin. Hermione stood on her tip-toes to see. "I will be your Ministry-appointed instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to -"

"Malfoy, be quiet!"

Hermione turned, noticing a very stern-looking Professor McGonagall. She turned the other way and saw Draco toward the back of the room, standing aside with Crabbe and Goyle; Draco's gaze fell on Hermione for a split-second, and his face flushed.

Twycross went on about apparition, and about how the school wards had been lifted for their lessons, but Hermione wasn't paying attention. It seemed strange that Draco would risk calling attention to himself like that.

Then everyone began moving. It looked like Twycross had called for them to begin, and students scrambled to find a clear space to practice in - everyone except Harry, who set off across the hall, weaving between other students.

Hermione realized at once where he was headed.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed, trying to catch him. He moved quickly, though, and she found herself skipping around just to keep up. She knocked into more than one person and had to apologize over her shoulder. "Where are you going?"

But it was too late. Harry approached Draco, who had his back to the rest of the room and spoke angrily to Crabbe.

"I don't know how much longer, alright?" Draco growled. "It's taking longer than I thought it would."

Hermione paused, making brief eye-contact with Crabbe, who looked startled to see her and Harry there. She had to think up a diversion, just in case Draco said something stupid and gave himself away.

"Harry!" Hermione said, loudly enough for Draco to hear.

Draco whirled about, a confused look on his face. He took one look at Harry and sneered. Not that Harry noticed, since he had turned as well to give Hermione a particularly exasperated look.

"Quiet!" called the Heads of Houses in unison. Hermione, looking worriedly over to Draco, noticed that he had his wand in hand. Thankfully, Harry hadn't noticed.

Twycross went on about the "Three D's" of apparition, not that Hermione could concentrate. Now she was stuck practicing only a dozen feet away from Draco, and if that wasn't enough of a distraction, then she didn't know what was. This wasn't going to end well.

…

Draco leaned heavily against the Vanishing Cabinet, listening to the twittering of a bird inside it. He was so close to having the cabinet finished, and Snape had urged him to do a test, so that meant that someone at Borgin and Burke's would expect something. It was about time to try sending something alive, anyway.

The tittering continued for a few seconds more, then promptly ceased. Draco slowly opened the cabinet.

Empty.

Giving a sigh of relief, Draco shut the door again. He'd probably managed to fix it, then. Which meant he'd saved his own skin, but what about the raid on Hogwarts? What was he supposed to do about that? What if students got killed?

Feeling that relief fade away, Draco started toward the door. He wound around various shelves and furniture piles, his hands stuffed into his pockets, before the exit came into view. Once outside, he found the unrecognizable face of Goyle, who today had taken his polyjuice potion with the hair of a first-year girl.

"It's done," Draco said, and the previously-scowling girl only nodded. Crabbe and Goyle weren't fond of hearing themselves speak in the dulcet soprano tones of young girls, so they had a tendency to say very little while on watch. Even now, Goyle didn't bother saying goodbye, but merely turned and headed off down the corridor.

 _Now that we have_ that _taken care of_ , Draco thought bitterly. He turned the opposite way and began walking toward the lavatory.

This had become a kind of routine of his, not that he'd admit it to anyone else. He barely even spoke to Blaise and Pansy anymore, and had spent all his free time in the Room of Requirement for the last month, so he needed an outlet of _some_ kind… That, and if Moaning Myrtle ever told anyone about his visits, they'd probably never believe a word she said. He needed that on his side.

Somehow, to Draco's great chagrin, he'd actually befriended the whiny ghost. He couldn't stand to listen to her prattling on, but thankfully Myrtle seemed desperate enough to keep him around that she actually shut up sometimes. She had a habit of asking the right questions, at any rate.

Running a hand through his hair - which had gotten long, he really needed a trim - Draco spotted the lavatory door up ahead. Taking a moment to glance up and down the hall, which was empty, he took a deep breath and went in.

"Draco? Is that you?"

Almost shyly, Myrtle peeked her glowing-white face over the door to a toilet stall.

"The one and only," he said, taking up his usual spot against the wall. Sinking to the floor, Draco sighed, rubbing tiredly at his face.

"Still worried about failing your project?" Myrtle asked.

Draco gave her an annoyed look, noting a bit of condescension in her voice. "No, actually. Just finished _that_ bit up…"

"So what is it?"

Clenching and unclenching his jaw, Draco mulled over his long list of worries. He hadn't been too specific on anything, and didn't plan to either. He wasn't sure how much he could even say, at this point.

Appraising Myrtle, who even as a ghost seemed more nerdy than spooky, Draco shrugged.

"Girl problems, among other things," he answered honestly, though sure he would regret it.

"Girl problems?" Myrtle repeated. She floated down to sit beside Draco, even venturing to rest her head on his shoulder - or, more accurately, rest her head where his shoulder would be, could she actually feel it. Draco cringed, not that she saw.

"Yeah. Girl problems."

So he couldn't talk about Voldemort. Even though the Dark Lord had Draco _far_ more concerned, he could at least vent a little about his next-biggest stressor.

He hadn't spoken with Hermione since Christmas, and he hated it. Each day it made more sense, which almost made it easier… Almost. But, each day Draco could see more clearly, and think more logically, and he knew this was the right thing. If he kept Hermione close, she'd get hurt. He couldn't have that.

"Do tell," Myrtle urged.

"Right," he said. "Er - it's nothing, really." When Myrtle didn't immediately jump in with questions, Draco cleared his throat. "I mean… I fancy her, and I know she fancies me. We just can't be together." Each word stung as he spoke it, but it was Draco's embarrassment of saying those words to _Moaning Myrtle_ that made him duck his head. His face felt hot, suddenly.

 _If the Dark Lord could see me now,_ Draco thought sullenly. Voldemort would sure lose confidence fast, if he only saw how pathetic Draco had become in the last year.

"Oh, how _romantic_ ," Myrtle gushed, floating up a few feet in her excitement. "You can't be together? Why not?"

"It just won't work," Draco admitted. "It's dangerous. We're - we're from two different worlds. The others won't like it. They'll hurt us."

"They will? Sounds awful..."

"Yeah," Draco said. "Awful."

He sank down lower, ignoring that his back had bent at a painful angle, and how cold the floor felt against his backside. Anything beat the discomfort of standing in Voldemort's presence… And Draco had exactly that to look forward to, didn't he? In fact, with the Vanishing Cabinet fully restored, Draco now had to face Snape in order to pass the message along. How long until Voldemort called Draco to another meeting? Would he even wait?

How long until another attempt on Dumbledore's life was made?

"You know," Myrtle said, now lounging at Draco's side again, "If you were to die, I would gladly give you my toilet." Lowering her voice conspiratorially, Myrtle went on. "It's the best one."

Unable to find the right words to respond with, Draco only mumbled unintelligibly; Myrtle didn't notice, though, and giggled to herself. She, at least, seemed quite pleased.

…

Hermione strode through the dark corridors, hugging her cloak tightly. The only light came from her wand, which she held low, trying not to disturb the portraits. She'd just finished her patrol, and after saying good-night to Belen down in the Entrance Hall, had headed back up to Gryffindor Tower.

The castle felt still tonight, more still than usual, and it made Hermione uneasy. Something wasn't quite right…

She stopped in her tracks. To her dread, and to prove her suspicions correct, she heard distinct footsteps somewhere behind her. They stopped too, but not until Hermione heard them loud and clear.

Her heart began pounding.

 _Alright, stay calm,_ she told herself. She hadn't been followed - at least, not to her knowledge - since Christmas Day with Draco. Clutching her wand tightly, Hermione ducked and pantomimed tying her shoe, hoping her pursuer wouldn't know she'd caught on.

Initially she'd thought that it must've been Snape, but then it wouldn't make sense for Snape to follow her now. He'd just interrogate her outright if something was wrong, and he'd never allow himself to be heard accidentally. No… The footsteps did sound heavy, not light and feminine, but Hermione also had to think of them as clumsy. Definitely not Snape.

Heart still racing, Hermione weighed her options in her head. Fight, or flight? Draw her wand, or run for it?

Taking a deep breath, she sprang to her feet and set off down the corridor.

Whoever followed, they managed to keep up. Hermione sprinted up a flight of stairs, then down the third-floor corridor, hoping to hide out in the hump-backed witch again. If it had worked the first time, then maybe now -

" _Ooof!_ "

It felt like she'd run headlong into a wall - ableit a fairly cushy wall. Before Hermione could react, a hand covered her mouth, and another, strong as a vice, wrapped tightly around her waist.

"Got her!"

Flailing her arms wildly and attempting to scream, Hermione felt her attacker lift her off the ground. In a moment of sheer panic, she realized that her wand was gone. Had she dropped it?

"Quick, in here," said another voice, deeper than the first. Hermione found herself dragged down the corridor a ways, and her limbs began tingling with the adrenaline of fighting back. Then she heard a door slam shut, along with the squeal of desks sliding across the floor, and her attacker dropped her onto the hard ground.

" _Lumos._ "

A flash of light blinded Hermione, and she covered her eyes. After a moment, exactly what she expected faded into view: a disused classroom, desks pushed aside. She sat sprawled in the middle of the floor, staring up at two rather hulking individuals.

"Crabbe?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "Goyle…?"

The two larger Slytherins stared down at her, both wands drawn. Hermione wasn't sure what to feel; with a wand, she'd have no problem taking them out, but she didn't have hers at the moment. Perhaps she could still outwit them.

"What do you want?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"We want you to stay away from Draco," Goyle answered, his voice low and guttural. "And we're not the only ones."

"Draco?" Hermione repeated, blinking.

"Yeah," Crabbe added. "He's better off without you, mudblood."

Hermione grit her teeth, but didn't say anything.

"You really had us going, for a while there," Goyle said, apparently eager to keep the silence filled. His wand shook in his hand. "Thought you two called it off, but then you covered for him the other day."

"The other day?" Hermione said slowly.

"Apparition lessons," Crabbe said, staring stupidly down at her.

" _Oh_ ," Hermione said. "I see..."

She studied the two boys carefully. Neither seemed very eager to be there, and Goyle wasn't the only one with trembling hands. Someone much scarier must've put them up to this, she decided, since they didn't seem very confident in themselves.

Crabbe gave Goyle a significant look.

"So, is that all?" Hermione asked, dusting off her robes. "I'll have my wand back, then."

"You will, will you?" Crabbe said, a note of anger in his voice. Then, to Hermione's surprise, he smirked at his friend, his shaking a little less apparent now. "Hear that, Greg? The _mudblood_ wants her _wand_ back."

Goyle didn't seem impressed with this, either. "I wonder what makes her think she _deserves_ a wand..."

A sense of unease settled over Hermione. She hadn't intended for them to get comfortable with their little stunt. If she weren't outnumbered two-to-one, she would be hissing and spitting in retaliation to their taunts, but as things were she couldn't quite find her voice.

Crabbe stepped forward, and Hermione instinctively shrank back. She didn't like this.

"Look at that, Vince," Goyle said, also looming nearer. "Looks like she's learned her place, after all. Won't be acting so high-and-mighty anymore, will you?"

Then, out of nowhere, Goyle drew back his foot and kicked Hermione in the side.

And explosion of pain in her left rib made Hermione cry out, and she fell over, clutching at herself. Finally giving up on sorting this out herself, she took a deep breath and screamed, not hearing the " _muffliato_ " Crabbe cast over the room. She screamed again, until Crabbe placed a foot on her hair, trapping her against the floor.

" _That_ was for making me look bad," Goyle muttered. Though he didn't explain what he meant, Crabbe understood only too well. Having Death Eaters for fathers meant suffering severe punishment when a mudblood beat you at exams.

Trying to pull away - and feeling a stinging pain all along her scalp when she did so - Hermione went still. She drew ragged breaths, realizing now more than ever just how bad this was.

"What do you think?" Crabbe asked, aiming his wand down at Hermione's head. "Merlin knows this stuff's an eyesore. Should we cut it off?" He punctuated his threat with a twist of his foot, which yanked painfully at her hair.

"No," Hermione said, feeling desperate. She craned her neck, trying to relieve the pressure on her scalp, and reached up to claw at Crabbe's ankle. "Please - _don't_ -"

The Slytherins laughed. The sound was dense and dumb-sounding, Hermione thought, but she'd never heard anything so terrible. Her eyes burned, and soon fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. She'd spent her entire life being buck-toothed, ugly, know-it-all Granger, she couldn't become the freak without hair -

Goyle crouched down, tracing the tip of his wand along Hermione's bangs.

"I don't know, Vince," he said, "I think she could try harder to convince us."

A sob escaped Hermione's throat, and she covered her face with her hands.

" _Please,_ " she begged, coughing and sniffling pathetically. This was met with only more laughter.

Goyle's hand shot out, clapping Vince's shoulder. The pair froze. Even Hermione held her breath, long enough to hear the echoing footsteps out in the corridor.

" _IN HERE!_ " Hermione shrieked. Before she managed to say anything else, though, Crabbe had clapped a massive palm over her mouth.

"They can't hear you, idiot," he hissed, though he still seemed wary. Then, a moment later, he drew his hand away with a look of disgust. "Gross," he muttered, wiping his palm with his robes.

"We should get going," Goyle said. "What if that was McGonagall?"

The two stood quickly, and Goyle already wrung his hands together nervously. If Hermione wasn't still terrified out of her mind, she might feel amazement at how quickly the Slytherins shrank back into cowardice.

Crabbe sneered down at Hermione, unsatisfied. He watched as she rolled over, trying to pick herself up, then he kicked her fully in the stomach.

"C'mon," Goyle said, grabbing a fistful of Crabbe's robes. "Enough of that."

Hermione clutched at her middle, still trying to drag breath back into her lungs. She collapsed onto the ground.

"Remember this," Crabbe warned, though Hermione didn't look up. She heard the distant clatter of something light and wooden hitting the floor. "And remember, leave him alone."

"Or it'll be worse," Goyle added.

The boys shuffled out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Hermione lay still after they'd left, desperate to make sure they'd actually gone before she tried moving. Barely able to think, she counted slowly to one hundred.

Trying to lift herself up, she felt a surge of pain in her side and fell back to the floor.

 _My wand,_ she thought, looking around the dark room. _Where is my wand?_

Again, she tried to pull herself up, but the pain only seemed more intense this time around. Hermione cried out, holding her left side. Surely something had broken. She needed help.

Breathing deeply, Hermione patted her robes. She didn't have her wand, but she had something else.

Pulling a tiny piece of parchment out of her pocket, Hermione prayed that Draco hadn't gone to sleep yet - or, for that matter, that he hadn't thrown his parchment away. If he had, then she'd been spending the night on the cold floor, hoping someone would stumble upon her in the morning.

As soon as the tiny quill transfigured, Hermione picked it up with a shaky hand. Working carefully, but still hardly legibly, she wrote.

 _Help. Third floor. Classroom._

It wasn't much, but it was all she could do. Breathing shallowly, and blinking back a fresh set of tears, Hermione curled up on the floor. And she waited.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So... this definitely took a turn, didn't it? I'm curious to hear your reactions to this chapter. I wrote this, and the next one, and have been debating on whether or not I wanted to take the plot in this direction. I decided to keep it.

For anyone interested, I seriously recommend looking up these chapters in HBP. It's amazing to look at Hermione's reactions when Harry goes off about Malfoy - she's a devil's advocate to the extreme, always defending Draco and telling Harry off. I love it. It makes this feel more plausible.

Thanks for reading on. Leave a review and let me know what you think! We broke 200 together, which is exciting.


	27. Under Extreme Circumstances

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Under Extreme Circumstances**

Blaise sat on the leather sofa in the Slytherin common room, his long legs extended over the cushions, and he stared dully at an open book. Usually he could dive into anything, and on slow evenings like this, that's exactly what he'd hoped to do.

He couldn't concentrate.

Rubbing his eyes, Blaise crossed his ankles. A few first-years had gathered on the rug by the fireplace, and occasionally they shot annoyed glares his way, but he ignored them.

 _If you really wanted to sit here, you'd just ask_ , Blaise thought, fixing the group with a stony stare. They promptly turned away and resumed chatting. He heard the door open, and turned; Draco had just come in for the night, and he looked paler than usual. Had he lost weight?

Blaise looked back down at his book. Ever since Draco had become a Death Eater, a rift had formed in their friendship… Except Blaise didn't think that Draco really wanted it there. He thought more and more these days that Draco was secluding himself on purpose, probably to keep his friends safe.

Looking up again, and seeing that Draco had retreated into the dormitory already, Blaise sprang up from the couch. He tossed the book aside unceremoniously.

"Oy," he said, entering the dorm. Draco had already collapsed onto his bed. "Greg said you've done it. Time to celebrate, don't you think?"

"I did it," Draco agreed, but his spirit wasn't in it.

"This means he's off your back, doesn't it?" Blaise tried again.

Draco laughed harshly. "I wish."

Blaise sank down onto his bed. He didn't like the sound of this. Sure, he'd known for months now that Voldemort just wanted to screw Draco over - for some reason Blaise couldn't even fathom - but it made less and less sense as the year dragged on. Why give the hardest jobs to a sixth-year student? Why do that, unless you genuinely wanted those projects to fail?

So what if Voldemort _didn't_ want Dumbledore dead? What if he didn't actually want this thing - whatever other project Draco had going - what if he wanted that to fail too?

"Well…" Blaise said. "Does this mean we'll get to see you around more?"

"'We?'" Draco repeated. He resisted the urge to laugh again. "Greg and Vince are sick of me. I'm pretty sure they could go a lifetime without seeing my face again. Pansy's got Theo now, and she's probably pissed with me too. And -" He cut himself short before he said Hermione's name out loud.

"Guess that just leaves me," Blaise said. "Sorry it's such a disappointment, mate."

Draco rolled over, looking across the room to his friend. "I didn't mean it like that."

Blaise didn't reply. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Draco said. "You just don't understand -"

"I understood enough when I _imperiused_ someone for you," Blaise countered. "You know you can tell me more. Hell, _Snape's_ told me more than you have -"

"What does Snape have to do with it?" Draco demanded, sitting up.

But, before Blaise could explain, Draco felt his pants pocket growing warm. The note hadn't received any messages for weeks now, and all the better for it - he thought Hermione had finally backed off like she was supposed to. What could she want now?

He pulled the piece of parchment out of his pocket, but it wasn't Hermione's usual handwriting he saw. It wasn't neat and perfect as a typeface, it was shaky and trailed off at the ends.

 _Help. Third floor. Classroom._

Help?

Draco stared at the parchment, his mouth going dry. He pulled himself up and started toward the door.

"Draco?" Blaise watched his friend curiously. Something seemed wrong, suddenly. "What is it?"

Doing a double-take, Draco's anxious gaze fell on his friend. He'd nearly forgotten Blaise was there, to be honest, he was so caught up in the need to get to the third floor _now_.

"I - I might need your help, mate," Draco said, his voice barely audible. He held up the note, not that Blaise could read it from across the room. "It's… It's Hermione."

Blaise felt his stomach sink. Somehow, he thought he knew exactly what had happened.

…

"Nothing on the East side," Blaise said, striding past Draco in the corridor. "You're sure it's a classroom?"

"That's what it said," Draco hissed, throwing open another door. They'd started off fairly quietly, but by now (and realizing the dozens of classrooms they still had to search) Draco had grown frantic. He'd stopped bothering to check the corridor for professors or ghosts, even. Blaise wasn't so foolhardy.

"Got it," Blaise said, raising his wand to illuminate the next corridor. "I'll take the North Wing as well."

Draco didn't even respond, but cursed to himself. Another empty room.

 _Where is she?_ He thought miserably. What could prompt Hermione Granger to ask for help? She was the one who always needed to do things herself, she needed to be independent and strong. Draco knew that if the trouble was simple in any terms, Hermione could think her way out of it. His Hermione always knew what to do.

So what happened?

...

Blaise cautiously rounded a turn in the hall. No sign of life, here. He strode quietly to the first door on his right, opening it without a sound and pointing his wand inside. Even among the shadows, which undulated and slipped around as his wand moved, Blaise could tell this room was empty.

He didn't know how he'd tell Draco, now; Blaise was about to launch into an explanation on why Snape had called him, Vince, and Greg into his office a few months ago, but then Draco found this note and set off into the castle. Blaise still couldn't make sense of that part, but for now he didn't question it. He just hoped Draco had some concrete reason to think Hermione still needed help.

Opening the next door, Blaise peered inside.

At once he could tell things weren't right. The desks, instead of standing in neat rows like in the other rooms, here had jumbled up against the walls. In the center of the otherwise-empty floor lay a body.

Blaise swore under his breath, glancing around the room before running to Hermione's side. She was curled into herself, gripping her side with a white-knuckled hand, but thankfully she was breathing.

"Hermione?" Blaise said, slowly reaching a hand out. "Hermione, wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open, and immediately a pained expression crossed her face.

"Draco, is that you?" she asked quietly. Her eyes closed again. "I knew you'd come."

Blaise rubbed his face, not sure how to respond. She was alive, and that was all well and good, but honestly he hadn't expected her _not_ to be… Not if he assumed that Vince or Greg had anything to do with this. He knew they hated muggle-borns with a passion, but Blaise didn't expect either of his friends - if he could call them that, after this - to have the backbone to follow through on their vendetta. Especially to do this to a girl, for some reason that made it seem more barbaric.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

 _Stupid question_ , Blaise thought.

Hermione slowly nodded her head, eyes still shut.

"Okay," Blaise said, crouching at her side. "I'm going to pick you up, alright?"

She didn't respond, so Blaise tucked his wand in his belt before sliding his arms under her shoulders and knees. Trying to rise slowly, he nearly fell over when Hermione let out a loud yelp, holding herself more tightly. She pressed her face into Blaise's chest, shaking.

"Sorry," Blaise said. "I know it hurts, okay? But we've got to get you to the hospital wing. I'm going to start walking now."

"My wand," Hermione said, still wincing. She cleared her throat. "They left my wand."

 _They? So it was both of them…_ Blaise thought. Admittedly, he'd be shocked if either Vince or Greg could overtake Hermione on their own, so it made sense. It still made him angry. Sure, Slytherins didn't like to fight fair, but this wasn't a fight. It was an ambush.

"I'll get it," Blaise said instead, trying not to think about it. "I'll come back and get it."

He walked through the classroom door, careful not to bump Hermione into anything, and set off down the hall. Thankfully she didn't weigh much. If it were Millicent Bullstrode in his arms, they'd barely make it five feet.

Turning back the way he came, Blaise followed the sound of Draco swearing a few corridors down. Several portraits hissed at them to be quiet.

"Draco," Blaise called. "I found her."

In the darkness up ahead, Blaise heard a brief silence, then Draco's hurried footsteps. His friend came into view, looking more disheveled than ever.

"'Mione?" Draco said, reaching out. He ran a hand over her hair, which spilled over Blaise's arm in a tangled heap. "What happened?"

She didn't answer, though.

The boys shared a grave look, then took off to find Madame Pomfrey.

…

When Madame Pomfrey was roused that evening, she noted the time before anything else: ten past midnight. Then she pulled on her dressing gown, picked up her slender wand, and hurried from her quarters into her office, following the sounds of an anxious student calling her name.

"Madame Pomfrey!"

She opened the door to the ward, taking in the sight before her with wide eyes.

"Oh my," she said. "Is she conscious?"

Two older boys, Draco Malfoy being one of them, stood in the center aisle, waiting to be instructed toward a cot. The darker-skinned boy - Zabini, possibly, but Poppy could be mistaken - held the limp body of a female student, still wrapped in her cloak. Zabini shook his head calmly, while Malfoy visibly trembled.

"Over here," Poppy said, gesturing to a clean bed. Her ward was empty tonight, so she didn't worry about waking anyone up. "Quickly, now."

Zabini strode toward the bed and gently lay the girl down upon it - he jumped back at the sound of Pomfrey's gasp.

"And that would be Miss Granger," Poppy said. She already had a hand over Hermione's forehead. Raising her wand, Poppy made a slow pass over the girl, from her toes all the way back up to her eyebrows. "What happened?"

Draco, panicking, looked to Blaise. Before Draco could say anything stupid, though, Blaise answered for the both of them.

"We found her at the bottom of the stairs," Blaise said, quite coolly. "Or really, Draco found her. That's why he's so shaken up."

"I see," Poppy replied. Her revealing spell had indicated damage to Hermione's ribcage, but that was all. "Strange, usually one suffers head trauma or limb damage… We'll need to alert the Headmaster. This isn't usual." She turned and addressed a portrait on the wall, whose occupant had previously been snoozing soundly. The crotchety-looking old wizard waved Poppy off. "Phineus, please tell Dumbledore to come here now. He needs to see this."

Phineus, yawning, exited his portrait.

"And you two," Poppy said, rounding on the boys, "Sit. Over there. The Headmaster will want a word, but I need you out of my way."

"Will she be alright?" Zabini asked, once again quite calm.

"Yes, of course," Poppy insisted. "Now go, sit." She pushed the boys away, then drew the curtain to Hermione's bed. She needed to get that cloak off and look at the girl's abdomen, which required privacy.

Though Draco resisted - not that Pomfrey saw - Blaise managed to drag his friend toward the bench by the hospital wing doors. He pushed Draco onto it.

"Thanks, mate," Draco said, still staring toward Hermione's cot. "I don't know what I would've told her."

"Yeah, well." Blaise sat, crossing his arms. "You're lucky one of us thinks well on his feet."

They didn't speak much after that, not until Dumbledore arrived.

The old wizard hadn't bothered to dress before heading over, and he entered the hospital wing wearing loud purple nightclothes and a sleeping cap. He didn't seem tired at all.

"Good evening, Blaise, Draco," Dumbledore said, nodding to each boy in turn as he passed. If he found their presence to be strange, he didn't show it.

"Ah, Poppy," he said, standing beside Hermione's bed. With the curtains drawn, he couldn't see either of them. "May I?"

But Madame Pomfrey gasped again. She whispered a quick "Hold on, Headmaster" before carefully replacing Hermione's blouse; she recognized that bruising pattern at once, and no hint of magic lingered over it. Pulling a blanket up over the sleeping girl, Poppy's hand shook when she drew back the curtain.

"Albus," she breathed, not wanting to believe what she'd seen. "It's - it's Miss Granger."

Dumbledore stepped past the curtain, looking down at Hermione. "Is she alright, Poppy?"

"Yes, she will be," Poppy said. "I can heal her quite easily, it's just - Albus, the boys said she fell down the stairs, but it looks more like she was hit." It wouldn't bother Poppy so much, except she knew that Hermione was muggle-born… Poppy hadn't seen a case like this for several decades. "She certainly has a broken rib, and the bruising… Sir, I don't believe a spell caused it, either." She didn't voice your main concern, however. Albus had a way of glossing things over when it came to Harry Potter, and Poppy had rarely tended to Hermione when it didn't have to do directly with him. If Harry Potter was getting into trouble again, it didn't bode well for anyone, these days.

Albus nodded slowly, looking down on Hermione with sad eyes. "Well, if you say she'll be alright, Poppy, then I will leave you to it. Shall I speak with our other two guests in the meantime?"

Poppy only nodded, then turned to rummage through her potions cabinet.

Dumbledore, striding with as much nonchalance as ever, beckoned for the boys to follow him. The trio walked in silence down the corridors, Draco lagging behind a bit to look back at the hospital wing. He didn't want to leave, but instructions from the Headmaster couldn't be ignored, either.

"Sugar floss," Dumbledore said clearly, standing before the gargoyle that guarded his office. He turned to the boys. "This way, gentlemen."

Draco had been inside Dumbledore's office before, but Blaise had not. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, he stared around at the mysterious golden instruments, of which there were hourglasses, scales, and strange-looking clocks, before spotting a magnificent bird in the corner. Its red and purple plumage draped elegantly over its perch, and the bird gave a content-sounding hoot at their arrival.

"Is that - is that a _phoenix?_ " Blaise asked, unable to look away.

"Indeed, it is," Dumbledore answered, taking his seat. With a swish of his wand, two chairs materialized on the opposite side of his desk. "Fawkes. A very loyal bird."

Blaise, still staring at Fawkes, lowered into his seat. Draco did the same, but his gaze fell to the floor.

"I imagine that finding Miss Granger in such a state was shocking for you," Dumbledore said, swishing his wand once again. A silver tea tray flew smoothly from a nearby shelf, and the moment it landed on the desk, the kettle began emitting steam. Dumbledore poured himself a cup, then offered the tray to the boys. "Where was it that you found her, Draco?"

Draco's throat felt like sandpaper; he didn't know what to say. If there was ever a time to have Dumbledore on his side, it was now.

"At the bottom of the stairs, sir," Blaise said. "The stairs to the third-floor corridor."

Draco merely nodded, still looking at the ground.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "And when you found her, was anyone else present? Did you pass anyone in the corridors?"

"No," Draco said, finally finding his voice.

Dumbledore watched the pair closely, peering over his half-moon spectacles.

"Well, it should be easy enough to find out," he said, stirring his tea idly. "The portraits will be able to substantiate that claim, won't they?" He looked at Blaise and Draco each in turn, noting the significant difference in their demeanors… But this was to be expected.

"Is there anything else that you'd like to tell me?" Dumbledore asked.

Blaise shook his head, his face perfectly composed. He glanced at his friend, who still hadn't looked up.

"I wonder, Blaise, if I might have a private word," Dumbledore said. He smiled at Draco. "I would hope that you show some inter-house unity by watching over Miss Granger tonight, Draco. I will have you dismissed from class in the morning. Thank you."

Blinking rapidly, and feeling more than a little bewildered, Draco stood up from his seat. He cast a questioning look at Blaise, who didn't react at all, before shuffling out of the room.

Dumbledore waited for Draco to disappear down the stairs. Then he fixed Blaise with a particularly withering stare, steepling his fingers together curiously. He took a moment to organize his thoughts before proceeding.

"I sense, Mr. Zabini, that you know more than you are letting on."

Blaise didn't speak, but just continued to hold Dumbledore's stare.

Dumbledore sighed. "I trust you understand that the typical punishment for conspiring to attack a student is, of course, expulsion. Not that either Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle will find themselves expelled tonight."

"So you know what happened," Blaise said, narrowing his eyes.

"I know as much as you do. I know that in December, Professor Snape asked to see the three of you in his office. I know he instructed you to keep a careful eye on Mister Malfoy, and to report back to him if you noticed anything unusual." Dumbledore took a long sip from his tea. "I know that Draco has been working very hard on a personal project of his, as well."

Blaise felt his blood go cold. Did Dumbledore also know about the attempts on his own life? Certainly not, or he wouldn't be so cavalier about it… Probably not, anyway. This was Dumbledore, after all.

"So you know all this," Blaise said slowly, "And you know that Vince and Greg did it… But you won't expel them?"

Dumbledore looked down. "Unfortunately, extreme circumstances must be taken into consideration, Blaise."

"I don't follow."

"Actually, I'm sure that you do," Dumbledore said. His gaze, while still serious, softened. "If Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle were expelled, where would they go? To their homes, naturally. And what would be their fate, then?"

When Blaise hesitated to speak, Dumbledore sighed. "It is common knowledge, now, that their fathers were - and most likely still are - Death Eaters. You won't be giving away their secret by telling me so."

Nodding now, Blaise swallowed. "They'd go home, and they'd become Death Eaters too."

"And when asked why they were expelled, what would they say?"

"That… That they attacked a muggle-born…" Blaise hesitated again, but decided to go on. "Not just any muggle-born, though. The one Draco's in love with."

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "And you know, as well as I, how poorly that news would be received - not only for Draco, but for Miss Granger as well."

"But sir, why not _obliviate_ them?" Blaise asked.

"You'll find that it is not our policy to modify our students' memories," Dumbledore answered. "No matter _how_ extreme the circumstances."

Blaise fell silent. He looked over at Fawkes, who had tucked his head under a wing and begun to sleep, and Blaise found himself envious. It was late, now, and Blaise wouldn't mind getting some sleep of his own.

"So they'll just…" he didn't want to say it out loud.

"They won't go unpunished, I can assure you," Dumbledore said, rubbing at his temple. "And I suppose our prefects' patrol schedules should be revised, as well. Perhaps I should go see if Miss Granger is awake."

Taking the hint, Blaise rose from his seat. Dumbledore stood as well, vanishing the conjured chairs with a wave of his wand.

Blaise had expected a thorough interrogation, but as he left the office now, he realized that the Headmaster hadn't even asked why he and Draco were out after hours. Which was fine with Blaise, since he really had no idea how to answer that question.

"Another thing, Blaise," Dumbledore said. They'd descended the stairs and now stood in the corridor, ready to part ways. "Vincent and Gregory are easily-influenced individuals, aren't they? I wouldn't be surprised if, were you to show disapproval over their actions, they might feel a little remorse. Good night."

And with that, Albus Dumbledore turned and strode away.

Blaise put his hands over his face, not sure what to make of all this. He'd need to take Dumbledore's word that Vince and Greg wouldn't get off scot-free… And, admittedly, he had to think that his last message was correct. If Blaise gave them both the cold-shoulder, they'd probably think twice about pulling a stunt like that again.

Before he could get to the dungeons (and his very comfortable bed) Blaise remembered - Hermione's wand.

Trying - and failing - to suppress a frown, Blaise headed toward the third floor. He'd have to deliver it in the morning.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm still deciding the intricacies of how Crabbe and Goyle with continue in this story. I don't expect them to deviate terribly from character, or to become crucially important. I just thought back on all the stress Draco went through in his younger years, and figured that for Crabbe and Goyle, they probably got it twice as bad. I imagine their fathers are more physically ruthless than Lucius.

You might be put off by Dumbledore's reaction to this all, and I hope I gave adequate insight without spoiling his characteristic vagueness. Tell me if I was too far off-base.

It's good to be back, guys. Thanks for the support.

Penny

P.S. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. We've taken a step back from Draco, which you might not like, but in his distant and conflicted state I wanted to do something distant and confusing - like putting him in the background for a bit. It won't last forever. Though I will admit, Blaise is going to play a bigger role coming up, especially in terms of Hermione. Check back soon!


	28. Resolutions

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Resolutions**

The next morning, Draco awoke with a sore back and a pounding in his head. He'd fallen asleep leaned over the foot of Hermione's bed, and had nearly slid out of his chair upon remembering where he was. She, for one, looked just as restful as she had in the Astronomy Tower last year; yawning tiredly, Draco moved his chair to where he could reach her more easily, should she need it.

What had happened yesterday? Draco, for one, couldn't wait until she woke up and started pointing fingers. He knew it had to be connected to whoever followed them on Christmas, not that this made him feel any better. Apparently he'd been correct… Whoever it was hadn't followed them _both_ , they'd just followed Hermione. So how long had that been going on?

Draco clenched his fists. He should have been there.

"Hey."

Turning, Draco saw that they weren't alone anymore. Blaise had entered the ward, looking considerably more disheveled than usual. His hair stuck out at odd angles and, for possibly the first time ever, he looked like he hadn't shaved.

Blaise walked up, his footfalls quiet against the flagstone. He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out Hermione's wand, all the while watching the witch in question.

He handed Draco the wand, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets. "Mind if I join you?"

"Oh," Draco said, placing the wand on Hermione's bedside table. "Er - sure, if you want."

Nodding, Blaise pulled up a chair. He sat, still watching Hermione with an unreadable expression.

He'd returned to that classroom the night before, and sure enough, she'd been right. Blaise found the wand lying in the corner behind a desk. On his way back down to the dungeons, though, he realized he wasn't alone… Stopping just in time not to be seen, Blaise overheard Dumbledore speaking. It was Snape who spoke back, and he sounded angry.

When he managed to reach the dungeons, and his own dormitory, it was only to be roused just after he'd fallen asleep.

 _Suddenly, light burned Blaise's eyes. He squinted against it, and covered his face._

" _Get up. Now."_

 _He'd recognize Snape's voice anywhere, but this was new. Their Head of House rarely entered the dormitories, let alone at the dead of night._

 _Blinking his surroundings into focus, Blaise sat up. Instead of finding himself at the center of this visit, though, he only saw the back of Snape's greasy head of hair and his long, billowing cloak. The professor loomed over Vince's bed, throwing aside the boy's comforter. Then he rounded on Greg._

 _Theo, whose bed sat next to Blaise's, had preemptively pushed back his covers as well, a scandalized expression on his face. Snape turned._

" _Not you," he said gruffly. Then he reached back and grasped the collar of Vince's nightshirt, wrenching the boy out of bed._

 _Theo shrank back, sending Blaise a worried look._

 _Once Snape had a white-knuckled grip on Greg and Vince both, he appraised Blaise, his mouth set in a thin line. After locking eyes for several long seconds, Snape gave a curt nod, then began hauling the others away._

 _Watching the odd trio retreat - or more accurately, get dragged away - Theo turned back to Blaise._

" _What the bloody hell was that?" he breathed._

" _I don't know," Blaise lied. He fell back onto his pillow. "Go to sleep, Theo."_

"You look like a wreck," Draco noted, smirking tightly. His friend had zoned out for a moment there, but shook his head and refocused.

"You're one to talk," Blaise clipped. "Look at you. Hair a mess, bags under your eyes - and what's this?" Blaise leaned in, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Is that a _wrinkle_ I see on your shirt?"

They sat in silence for a few seconds, then both started laughing. Blaise didn't notice how restrained Draco's laughter was, but after their supremely tension-filled night, it was a welcome change of pace. At the sound, however, Madame Pomfrey materialized by Blaise's elbow; he jumped when he realized they had an audience.

"What is this, comedy hour?" the matron asked, hands on her hips. "You'll wake her up! Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster may have requested that you stay - for some reason I _cannot_ fathom - but you, Mr. Zabini, will find yourself thrown into the corridor if I hear another word!" She turned her attention to Hermione, who, to everyone's surprise, had squinted open her eyes.

"'Mione," Draco said, breathing a sigh of relief. "How - how are you?"

Hermione reached a hand up and rubbed tiredly at her face, then gave them all a weak smile.

"Sore," she answered. "But I feel alright… What time is it?"

Madame Pomfrey tutted, hurrying to Hermione's side when the young witch struggled to sit up. That her patient could move about meant that her ribs had healed nicely - Hermione's slight wince of pain, however, didn't go unnoticed.

"It's only seven, dear," Poppy answered, fluffing Hermione's pillow. She selected a small purple phial from her cabinet. "Drink this, it'll help with the bruising."

Each of the three students felt a strong, if not entirely different, surge of emotion at those words. Hermione, for one, had forgotten why she was in the Hospital Wing in the first place, too distracted by waking up with Draco and Blaise at her side. When she took the phial in hand, she trembled slightly - she didn't know what to do about her situation. She hadn't had time to process it yet.

Draco, for his part, felt an immediate rush of anger. Hermione hadn't ended up on the floor of a dark classroom by accident, someone must've put her there, and Draco resolved to weed out the person responsible and tear them limb from limb. His hands clenched into fists. One look back at Hermione, though, and his rage dulled. He could see the mix of shock and calculation in her eyes, and his stomach turned at the sight.

Beside Draco, and going unnoticed by the others, Blaise looked down at the floor.

Hermione drank the solution in one easy gulp, wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste. She handed the phial back to Madame Pomfrey.

"Once you're feeling better, I'm afraid the Headmaster will need a word with you," Poppy said. "Don't worry about it just yet, though. For now, just get some rest." She placed a hand lightly on Hermione's shoulder as she spoke, trying to be as gentle as possible. She still had her suspicions about the girl's injuries, after all, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.

"And _you_ two," Poppy went on, rounding on the boys, "I'll have no more disruptions! You can come back this afternoon, but for now -"

"Actually, Madame Pomfrey, I'd like them to stay," Hermione cut in. "I'll rest, I promise, but - there are some things for us to sort out…"

By now Hermione had realized that, as much as she'd come to the conclusion that they'd need to keep this quiet, she couldn't hide reality from their school's Healer. Memories from last night came flooding in, and Hermione could almost feel Goyle's kick to her ribs all over again. No one knew what really happened except for her, Crabbe, and Goyle… But Madame Pomfrey would know with certainty that the injuries weren't an accident.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do about it, and she crossed her fingers that she'd be allowed to keep Draco - and Blaise too, since he'd somehow gotten involved - around for advice.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips, staring at the three students. In any other situation, she would have given a resounding "no." This time she simply could not.

"As long as you're resting," she conceded, her tone short. Before leaving, Poppy made sure to give each of the boys a hard stare, warning them against any funny business.

Blaise let out a long breath once she'd gone.

"Won't break any of _her_ rules, that's for sure," he said, reclining in his seat.

Draco didn't hear his friend, though. He only had eyes for Hermione, who stared intently at her hands and didn't speak. It would give him immense relief just to reach out and touch her, he knew, but he didn't want to overstep himself. He didn't know what had actually happened the night before, how Hermione felt about it, or how he could help right now. Not knowing terrified him.

Hermione looked up, trying to keep her voice casual. "I take it you found me, then."

"That was me, actually," Blaise said quietly.

Nodding, Hermione looked down again. Her brow furrowed. "Who knows?"

Draco looked to his friend. He hadn't been the one to cover this up, after all, and he didn't want to be the one to explain it.

"Dumbledore," Blaise said. "Snape, too. No one else. We told Pomfrey that you fell down the stairs."

"She'll know that's not right," Hermione said.

"It wasn't for us to tell," Blaise replied. When they made eye contact, Hermione felt very grateful for his part in all of this. She wasn't sure she would have made the same call, but appreciated that he had nonetheless. It made things easier.

"What happened?" Draco suddenly demanded, looking between his best friend and would-be girlfriend. He glared at Blaise. "What do you know that I don't?"

Blaise grew quite uncomfortable at that; he hoped Hermione would jump in and tell her story, if anything just to get Draco's attention diverted somehow. When he looked at her, though, she was staring back, head tilted slightly.

"I'm curious about that too," she said.

" _Fine_ ," Blaise huffed. "I'll tell you - but don't bite my head off, okay?" He looked pointedly to Draco, who made no promises. "I didn't really know anything at first, but I had my suspicions. Then Dumbledore confirmed them. The thing is… Er, I was about to tell you this before, mate, but Snape asked us to keep an eye on you." Blaise swallowed. "Vince, Greg, and I."

Draco's eyes immediately darkened. Blaise watched his friend grip the edge of his seat, hands shaking, and he hurried on.

"Snape was worried about you guys, I think, but he didn't say that specifically… He just told us that you were up to something, something different from - well, you know," Blaise glanced over to Hermione, not sure how much he could give away.

"When was this?" she asked.

"Before break," Blaise replied. "He asked if I'd stay, but I told him no. I think he had Vince floo back though, once he got really suspicious. We all knew about you guys - well, I knew, they just guessed right apparently."

Hermione nodded calmly.

"So you're telling me," Draco seethed, catching them off-guard with the unrestrained fury in his tone, "That _Vince_ and _Greg_ had something to do with this?"

Instead of answering, Blaise looked to Hermione. She almost didn't answer, but then quite cautiously she nodded her head.

"I'm going to kill them," Draco said, standing up with such force that his chair fell backward. Blaise was on his feet immediately, ready to hold Draco back if necessary, but Draco kept his eyes on Hermione. "What did they do? Tell me."

"N-nothing, really," Hermione said, eyes wide. "I mean, they took my wand - they just wanted to scare me -"

"Scaring people doesn't put them in the hospital, Hermione," Draco said. "Tell me, _now_."

"Easy, mate," Blaise growled, noticing how frightened the witch was. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder, only to be shrugged off.

"Well, they kicked me around a bit, but I'm fine now -"

"They kicked you, and what else?" Draco demanded.

" _Nothing_ , honestly!" Hermione said, totally exasperated. She looked pleadingly to Blaise.

"Listen to her," Blaise said firmly. "She said nothing happened. It's not what you think."

It took a moment for Hermione to realize what Blaise was saying. She watched as Draco gradually came down from his explosive rage, the redness in his face fading away and his posture relaxing. The anger didn't leave his eyes, but after a long minute of watching him warily, Hermione realized that something else did - fear.

"You… You thought they…" She didn't want to say the words out loud.

Blaise pulled Draco's chair back up, pushing his friend back onto it. Draco slumped, taking in deep breaths.

"It didn't look good," Blaise said quietly. "Not that I'd suspect them of it, but after finding you like that, the thought crossed my mind too."

Not saying a word, Draco reached over and took Hermione's hand. He leaned over and buried his face in his arms, letting himself slump onto the bed beside her.

With a rush of emotions - too many to count - Hermione placed her other hand on his head, running her fingers soothingly through Draco's hair.

"No," she said, the word laced with finality. "They just scared me, and kicked me while I was down, but nothing else. It's nothing I can't handle."

Since Draco didn't respond, apparently too overcome with relief to even react, Blaise nodded back to Hermione. He felt relief, too, not only that she hadn't been hurt in any disturbing way, but also that his dorm-mates hadn't committed that kind of atrocity.

"Dumbledore isn't going to expel them," he explained. "He said he would otherwise, but if he keeps them here they won't be as tempted to out you guys to their fathers. I think… It sounds like the better option, unfortunately."

"I agree," Hermione replied.

Somewhat surprised, Blaise felt a heightened respect for her. He wouldn't have been able to think about this so rationally, were he in her shoes, and he knew it.

"Snape came and got them last night, though," he went on. "He sounded furious. I think they'll still get what's coming to them, at any rate."

"Good. I wish Snape didn't know, but... Good."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, Hermione continuing to stroke Draco's hair. She marveled at having him so close, so suddenly, after these long weeks of wondering if he didn't want her anymore. The answer, she now knew, was far more complicated. It gave her plenty to think about.

"Thank you," she said, voice low, her eyes meeting Blaise's again. "For finding me. I remember thinking it was Draco, but…" she trailed off, not wanting to explain. She just knew, in hindsight. Draco smelled different, and felt different. His voice wasn't as low when he spoke. "I realize I don't know you very well, Blaise, but I suppose now I owe you quite a lot."

"You don't owe me anything," he said. "If I'd been paying more attention, I probably would have realized what they were up to. I should have known, I think."

Hermione shook her head. "It's not your fault."

Outside in the corridor, they heard voices and the commotion of morning foot-traffic. Classes would begin soon. The thought reminded Hermione of something else - her friends.

"You should go," she said, sitting up a little straighter. The movement sent a surge of pain through her abdomen, and she winced. "Harry and Ron will have noticed I wasn't at breakfast. Dumbledore might even have told them I'm here…" She squeezed Draco's hand, and he finally pulled himself back up. He looked utterly exhausted. "It won't do to have anyone see you here. Go get some rest, Draco."

Sensing that he wasn't needed any more, Blaise stood. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked toward the door, not sure if he should wait or not.

Draco didn't let go of Hermione's hand. He stared at her, his gray eyes searching hers for some sign of uncertainty or fear, but he found none. She seemed okay, if only a little tired.

"It's okay," she said, reaffirming his own thoughts.

Nodding, Draco rose to his feet. He leaned over and placed a slow kiss on Hermione's forehead. Her stomach fluttered excitedly, and when he pulled away, her cheeks were flushed pink.

"Write me?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. He let go of her hand, and he left.

...

"Wait, I got it -"

"Really, I can reach it just fine -"

"No, wait, just -"

" _Ronald!_ " Hermione spat, completely at wit's end with the redhead. "I am _perfectly_ capable of getting my own food!"

For a moment, everyone at their end of the Gryffindor banquet table paused, looking over at them. Then they resumed their dinner as usual, chatting about classes and quidditch and whatnot.

Ron shrank back. He sat at Hermione's left, and the entire meal he'd refused to let her reach for _anything_. He, Harry, and Ginny had found out about her broken rib that morning, and Hermione had played it off as an accident from slipping on the stairs. She mentally thanked Blaise for giving her the idea.

"I know you can," Ron muttered. "But don't you think -"

"No," Hermione said flatly. She looked to Harry, who sat across from them, for help.

"Well, Madame Pomfrey _did_ say you're fine now," he said, totally neutral. He returned to stabbing at his chicken, not wanting to get drawn into their spat.

Hermione shot an I-told-you-so look at Ron, who frowned, but otherwise let it go. Then she reached over and picked up a roll from down the table, exerting significant effort to hide the fact that it hurt to do so.

She'd left the hospital wing only an hour ago, her ribs fully healed, but the large bruise on her side lingered. It made it all the worse that she knew it was leagues better now than it had been the night before, or even that morning. Now it looked like a giant yellow-green blotch that stretched from just under her breast all the way down to her navel. It was unsightly.

Not as unsightly as being hairless, though. That would have been heartbreaking, as much as she loathed to admit it. Hermione never thought of herself as vain, and she didn't bother much with her looks, but she thought back on the sheer panic she'd felt at the thought. It made her pulse race, both with anger and fear.

No, no _way_ she'd let that incident affect her any more than it should. It was hardly the most dangerous situation she'd been in - but she'd been caught alone, which had never happened before. She always had Harry or Ron by her side, but last night…

She bit her thumbnail, eyes trailing over to the Slytherin table. No sign of Crabbe or Goyle, thank Merlin. No sign of Draco, either, which made Hermione frown. Should she be concerned?

Blaise, who actually _had_ arrived for dinner, looked up briefly and met Hermione's gaze. He held her stare for a moment, his face cool and expressionless. He wondered what she was thinking.

"They finally changed our patrol schedule," Pansy said excitedly, sliding onto the bench beside Blaise. "No more wandering about with Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors! It's about bloody _time_."

"Who's patrolling with you, then?" Theo asked, taking the seat on her other side.

"That would be me," Blaise answered. Pansy already knew this, though, and she seemed quite delighted about it. They hadn't spent much time together in the last few months, so Blaise thought it might actually be a nice change, too. "Draco dropped Prefect duty last term, and Snape only just got around to replacing him."

Pansy turned to Theo, pouting. "I don't see why he didn't pick _you…_ "

Blaise rolled his eyes, reaching for his pumpkin juice. "Thanks for that."

The other two hadn't heard him, however. Apparently Theo had retorted with something witty, because Pansy started giggling and she shoved him playfully. With a sigh, Blaise stood up.

"I'm about done, then," he said, not entirely sure they cared. "See you downstairs."

He made the trek down to the dungeons, resisting the urge to look back out over the Hall. Ever since last night Blaise felt a strange need to speak with Hermione, and about more than what had happened. He didn't know why, but it felt important. For one long, startling hour that afternoon, the thought of attraction struck him - but that wasn't the case, and he knew it now. Thank Merlin.

Vince and Greg hadn't reappeared since last night, and for that Blaise was grateful. For one, it meant he didn't need to worry about Draco doing something stupid; for two, it meant he didn't need to worry about _himself_ doing something stupid. At least the latter was significantly less likely to happen.

Arriving at the dorms a few minutes later, he found Draco's bed empty. Where is friend had gone, though, he had no idea.

…

Draco knocked on Snape's office door, his hand shaking. He'd spent most of the day sleeping, finally able to get some rest after a night of constant anxiety. Not knowing the details of Hermione's attack had nearly tipped him over the edge, and he'd spent hours running through awful scenarios in his head. It was strange to feel relief when she told them what happened - strange, and backwards, since she'd still been hurt. He didn't like it.

The door opened, and Snape stared down his hooked nose at Draco. No emotions crossed Snape's face at seeing him there, and without a word, he stepped aside to let Draco in. Not knowing where to start, Draco strode over to the Snape's desk and collapsed into the spare seat. He buried his face in his hands.

"I assume this is about Miss Granger," Snape said, returning to his chair.

Draco said nothing.

"They are being appropriately dealt with, I assure you."

"If that were true, they'd be _expelled_ right now," Draco spat, shaking his head.

"You know why that can't happen," Snape said.

"I _know_. It doesn't make it alright, or fair -"

"But it keeps her _safe_ ," Snape fired back. "And you as well. Perhaps if you'd taken my advice sooner then she wouldn't be in this mess."

Draco seethed. He physically shook at this point, unable to restrain himself. "I wasn't the one who told them to follow her, Professor."

Snape stood, his eyes dark. "Do not put this on me, Draco. What I asked of them had nothing to do with her, and you know it. Besides, it would be daft to believe that they acted of anything but their own accord."

"They could've done _anything!_ " Draco snapped, standing as well. He couldn't take in Snape's explanation, not now that he'd come face-to-face with his own guilt. "They need to get out of this bloody school!"

"If we push them out of this school, then next time it _will_ be anything," Snape spat. "And it won't be some pathetic teenagers, it'll be Fenrir Greyback, or Antonin Dolohov, or your _dear_ Aunt Bella. You think last night was frightening? Wait until the Dark Lord himself puts a target on her back, and on yours. Wait until Yaxley or Rowle or _Pettigrew_ come for her, _then_ you'll know fear."

Draco's mouth worked, trying to form a response, but he couldn't find his voice. Everything was crashing in on him, and hearing Snape spout such dangerous names only intensified the feeling. He couldn't help but picture each revolting individual, and with each new image he sank deeper and deeper.

Clutching his head, Draco fell back into his chair.

 _What have I done?_

"Keep your distance, and complete your tasks," Snape said. He sounded tired, like their shouting match had drained him of energy. "She will be safe, Draco. We'll see to it."

Draco remained quiet for a time, trying and failing to shake away his guilt-ridden thoughts. When he spoke again, he couldn't keep his voice from quivering.

"It was my fault it happened, wasn't it?" he asked.

Snape didn't answer. He hated to see Draco this distressed, but it was crucial that the boy finally learn his lesson. Even if he had to do it the hard way.

At the ensuing silence, Draco finally began to cry. When he felt his pocket grow warm that night, he hurriedly pulled out Hermione's message, afraid she might be in trouble again; seeing that it wasn't the case, that she was only responding to his request to talk, Draco set the parchment aside. He wouldn't be answering it again.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Ah, SO many things about this chapter! Firstly, I'm not sure how I feel about inserting the flashback like that. I wanted to show that snippet of story, but once I moved on from it, it seemed out of place. Maybe because I'm not sure I've done flashbacks before in this story. If you didn't like it, that's fair.

Secondly, I hope there's no confusion over what Draco was worried might have happened. I don't think he every truly believed Hermione had been assaulted, but the fear of it would have filled him to the brim with paranoia. I'm not sure I conveyed this well, but I tried.

I'm looking forward to some Blaise/Hermione interaction. I've been thinking about it more and more, and would like to see their relationship develop. Any suspicions on how that'll go? ;)

We're getting ready to really push the plot along. And yes, there will be a chapter titled " _Sectumsempra_ " coming up soon...

Thank you for the reviews, and all the encouragement you guys are giving me about my personal health issues. I appreciate it more than you know.

Penny


	29. A Few Wild Theories

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Few Wild Theories**

After trying, and failing, to reach Draco for hours that night, Hermione finally gave up. Harry, Ron, and Ginny all picked up on her sour mood the next day, but thankfully she was able to pass it off as homework-related stress. She had missed an entire day of classes, so they seemed to believe her.

She told herself why he wasn't talking to her. She told herself over and over that when Crabbe and Goyle had attacked her that evening, Draco's fears - and hers as well - had been confirmed. Fraternizing with one another made them targets. Hermione could handle it, having been Harry Potter's best friend for nearly six years now, but for Draco it was different.

It still hurt.

He no longer made eye contact in class or in the corridor, and this time around, Hermione didn't try to change it. For all intents and purposes she stopped looking at Draco, too… As long as anyone else paid attention, anyway. Sometimes she snuck a glance his way during Potions, but even that became risky; these days, it seemed that Blaise always had an eye on Hermione.

One afternoon, about a week after she left the hospital wing, Hermione headed for the library. She had a free period after Ancient Runes and wanted to get a head-start on an essay for Professor McGonagall.

Staring down at her books, which she juggled rather precariously, Hermione didn't see the tall figure just outside the library doors.

"Mph!" she gasped, having walked directly into someone. A pair of strong hands steadied her, and for a brief, euphoric moment, Hermione thought it might be - but no, it wasn't Draco. Hermione looked up into the exceedingly handsome face of Blaise Zabini.

"I'm sorry," she said, bending down to gather her books. To her surprise, he did the same.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. His voice was low and smooth, exactly what you'd expect from such an attractive person. No wonder girls couldn't stop talking about him. "Actually, I've been hoping to run into you. Er, figuratively speaking."

They stood, exchanging a few papers and textbooks, before Blaise ventured to continue. "I still feel bad, about… You know."

"I told you, it wasn't your fault," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I don't know why you'd think it was."

"It's not like I knew what they were up to… I just can't help but thinking, if I'd been a better friend to Draco these last few weeks, we would've realized something." Blaise stared at the floor. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "He really cares about you, you know."

Hermione felt her heart flutter, but she tried to ignore it. "He's had me wondering about that… It's hard to tell, with him." She chewed on her lip, not sure what to say now. It felt strange to speak so comfortably with Blaise, considering they'd never really interacted before. "I don't suppose it matters, though, it's not like it changes anything."

"Yes it does," Blaise said. "The closer he gets to you, the further away he gets from - from his father, and from -"

"From Voldemort," Hermione finished. She watched Blaise's eyes flash with shock, but he blinked it away immediately.

"Yeah. From him."

"Do you really mean that?" Hermione asked quietly. "You think it's a good thing for us to be together?"

Blaise sighed. "I don't know. I know he gets better when he's with you, but after last week… I don't know what to think. Maybe 'safe' and 'good' aren't the same thing right now."

They fell into silence again, and Hermione chewed over the poignancy of Blaise's words. Maybe these days their choices weren't right versus wrong, they were right versus safe. She still knew exactly what to choose.

"Oy!"

The pair looked up, only to spot a very suspicious-looking Ron Weasley headed up the corridor. He had his eyes narrowed, glancing between Hermione and Blaise quickly.

"Can we help you?" he spat, standing beside Hermione. She rolled her eyes, then gave Blaise an apologetic look.

"I doubt it, Weasley," Blaise replied smoothly. "Granger and I were just comparing notes for Sinistra's end-of-year exam. Care to have a look?"

Ron clenched his jaw, clearly conflicted. On the one hand, he'd love to tell Zabini off. On the other, he'd love to forget that end-of-year exams existed entirely.

"I'll be on my way then," Blaise said. He gave a short nod to Hermione as he walked past.

"Bye, Blaise," Hermione said. She didn't see the look of utter incredulity on Ron's face, but maybe that was for the better.

…

"You've been avoiding me."

Pansy hopped onto the leather sofa beside Draco, pushing his books aside and tucking her legs underneath her. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "And don't pretend I'm interrupting something, we both know you're not _really_ reading that book."

Draco, despite knowing she was right - he'd been holding up a book on dragons for the last hour, though he'd barely turned a page - huffed in agitation. He tossed the book aside, scowling.

"Maybe I was enjoying some alone time," he said, though he couldn't make the words sound harsh.

Pansy ignored him, though, and hugged his arm. It was something that always aggravated Draco to no end, that she had no limits to the affection she'd bestow on her friends. Right now, though, he needed it. She held his elbow tightly, like she was determined to make him happy via osmosis alone.

"I miss you, Draco," Pansy told him, surprisingly sincere.

He didn't reply.

He'd missed Pansy terribly over the last few weeks, her and Blaise both, but couldn't bring himself to talk to them. Any time he considered it, he remembered Hermione's attack, and that was enough to push them away. He couldn't risk getting any more of his friends hurt.

"We've been talking about you, you know," Pansy said, unruffled by Draco's silence. "Blaise and I. Theo sometimes, too, but he doesn't understand like we do. We all know what you're trying to do, and we've decided not to let you do it."

"Do what?" Draco asked.

"Keep us away," she answered. "I know you're afraid, but we all are. And it won't be your fault if something bad happens, so stop being such a bloody _martyr_ and let us in. Besides, you need to take me shopping again, Theo is shite with that stuff."

Draco had to smile. It was a perfectly _Pansy_ way of ending that train of thought.

"We're not going to give up on you," Pansy continued. "Never. Even if we don't know what's going on with you, even if we haven't talked in _months_ , we'll be here for you."

Without realizing it, Draco's eyes had begun to water. He blinked rapidly, trying to will away the tears - Merlin, he'd been crying too much lately - and he steeled himself against the onslaught of relief and hope he felt. This was all well and good, but it didn't change the facts. It didn't change that the people he loved most would end up in danger if he did something wrong. One fuck-up could put Pansy or Blaise in the crosshairs.

"Talk to me," Pansy urged.

Draco took a deep breath. It would be nice to have his friends back, even just for the moment.

"I've been a right git, haven't I?" he asked.

"Naturally," Pansy said, perking up. "But what's new?"

Smirking, Draco thought back on all the things he'd missed out on recently. They had a lot to catch up on.

"How are things with him, anyway?" he asked. "Theo, I mean. You sound happy."

"Oh, they're _great_ ," Pansy said, blushing deeply. "I really like him, Draco. I really, _really_ like him."

"I can tell," Draco said. "You barely leave his side. And yes, I've been paying enough attention to notice _that_." He readjusted on the couch, resting his cheek on the top of Pansy's head. What he'd give for it to be Hermione curled up against him… But thinking about her wouldn't do him any good. It hurt.

"You should show me your patronus sometime," Draco said suddenly. "I can't believe you can conjure one - most students graduate Hogwarts and still can't do it."

Pansy brightened at that, perfectly happy to give Draco a demonstration. Their conversation devolved into chatting about classes, exams, and quidditch, and by that time Theo had joined in. The burly Slytherin settled onto the far side of the couch, totally unperturbed at seeing his girlfriend cuddled up with someone else. Draco had prepared to apologize profusely, but Pansy merely kissed Theo on the cheek, moved to lean against him instead, and the conversation resumed without a hitch. Apparently Theo knew his girlfriend had two "brothers" in their year, and he granted them plenty of leeway without question.

At some point, Theo mentioned Crabbe and Goyle, who no one saw after classes anymore. He marveled at their detention schedule.

"I mean, I knew Snape was strict," Theo said, not noticing how very still Draco had gone. "I just didn't think a professor could give you _that_ much detention. It's been all day every day for the last week, and only letting them off for classes." Theo chuckled. "You should've seen him. Snape was _livid_."

"I don't even know what they _did_ ," Pansy said.

"Well they broke into his storeroom, of course." A new voice spoke this time, and Pansy craned her neck to see. She smiled excitedly.

Blaise had just entered the common room, and he already held the rapt attention of the other three. Draco, for his part, held his breath. He knew the truth couldn't possibly be out there, so it would be interesting to see how believable the made-up version was.

Without missing a beat, Blaise sat on the floor in front of the couch. He pulled a bag of sweets from his pocket and tossed it to Pansy, who clapped happily and shared with Theo and Draco.

"Apparently, they had it in their heads to brew some potion - don't look at me, I have no idea what or why," Blaise said, holding up his hands briefly. "Maybe Vince could pull off a decent potion, but we all know Greg would muck it up for the both of them. Anyway, they broke in, and started taking everything they could see. Didn't think to bring a list, or so I hear.

" _That's_ where they hit a snag. Snape's got all his rooms warded, so he knew something was up. So there they are, Greg trying to lift Vince up to the top shelf - once again, not their brightest idea, considering Vince probably weighs a good hundred kilos - and here comes Snape, descending upon his unsuspecting prey -" At this, Blaise pulled his cloak up over his head and threw out his arms in an uncanny impression of a bat. Even Draco had to laugh.

"But somehow, they got away!" Blaise said, and a hush fell over the group of friends. At some point this had stopped being the story of how Vince and Greg got stuck in detention, and became the epic retelling of two thieves and their near-escape. Pansy leaned forward, fully engrossed, popping jelly beans into her mouth.

"According to the legends, Snape would have had them if it weren't for a moment of fleeting genius on Greg's part. He let go of Vince, who, holding onto the highest shelf with all his might, brought down the _entire_ storeroom. The cabinets came crashing down, and Snape had no choice but to watch in total awe as his precious ingredients perished in a cloud of dust."

Blaise gave the best bow he could, considering that he still sat on the floor, while Pansy and Theo gave a round of applause. Draco clapped slowly, catching Blaise's eye - it didn't matter anymore if the story was believable, at least not to the others. As with most things, it seemed that laughter had solved their problem.

...

Harry and Ron sat in front of the fireplace, hurriedly scribbling at essays (where were due the next morning and probably should've been finished ages ago) while the rest of their classmates gradually shuffled upstairs to get some sleep. Even Hermione had gone to bed already, but Ron was glad for that. Ever since that afternoon, he'd had something on his mind, and he just couldn't concentrate with her right there.

"Done," Harry said, dropping his quill. "I'm never going to procrastinate _again_. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?"

"Oh, you know, not many near-death experiences lately." Ron shrugged. "Guess we need something to keep things exciting."

Harry laughed, gathering up his parchment and putting it in his bookbag. He reclined on the couch, letting himself get lost in thought.

"Hey Ron?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed anything? About Hermione?" Harry glanced at his friend, who looked as exhausted as he felt. "I just feel like something's up with her. Something's off."

"Yeah," Ron said. "I've noticed." He scrunched his face up, thinking about how to voice his theory without sounding completely crazy. "I - er - I think I know what's going on, but it sounds batshit."

"Go on," Harry said cautiously.

Ron cleared his throat. "Well… Okay, to be totally honest, I think she's seeing someone, and she's not telling us because she knows we won't like it. Someone, like…"

"Like?"

"Er… Someone like Blaise Zabini."

The look of concern on Harry's face made Ron want to backpedal, not knowing if Harry was concerned for Ron's sanity or Hermione's. Ron guessed the former.

"Look, just think about it," Ron said quickly. "Any time you talk about Malfoy - Zabini's _best mate_ \- she jumps in to defend him. You even told me that she blew your cover at the apparition lessons, right? Like she didn't want you to hear what Malfoy was talking about? Well, what makes you think they aren't both in on it together?" Ron swallowed, gaining traction in his argument. "I mean, we saw Zabini at The Three Broomsticks the day Katie got cursed. We know it was probably Malfoy, but then where was he? Maybe Malfoy's been teaming up with his good pal Zabini to get his secret projects done."

Harry stared back in silence.

"Oh, right," Ron added, "And I saw them talking earlier. They were acting a bit - er - familiar."

Once Ron had finished, Harry found himself speechless. He wanted to argue, but found that nothing in particular came to mind as evidence against Ron's claim. Hermione had been distant, and Harry caught her staring off in Zabini's direction every once in a while during class.

"But - _why?_ " Harry said, blinking. "I mean, I know he's smart - but why would Hermione fancy _him_ of all people? He's a Slytherin."

Ron shrugged. "Girls. They make no sense."

"Yeah," Harry said, leaning back into the sofa. "I guess they really don't."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hey guys. I'm sorry this one is a bit shorter, but I think the next chapter is going to be kind of big and I wasn't sure there will be a good stopping point for it. That's right, we're talking "Chapter Twenty-Nine: Sectumsempra."

I hope you like the little developments here, and mostly just a chapter to include some more Pansy/Draco friendship and a bit of Ron and Harry. A few of the past reviews I've received mentioned that they liked the Pansy/Draco/Blaise friendship, so I thought it was time to pull that back in.

Thank you to those of you who have reviewed since the hiatus. You're really wonderful, and I love getting feedback. I invite you to be open with your criticism as well, since I'm writing fanfiction mostly to hone my writing skills. Let me know what you think about this one, if you get a chance.

Love you all,

Penny


	30. Sectumsempra

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Sectumsempra**

Over the next few weeks, everyone in Hogwarts became wrapped up in either quidditch, classes, or both, and this all came with a side of romantic turmoil as well. It became clear that the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match would decide who won the cup, and each house's team wore the stress of it in increasingly evident ways; some, like Ron Weasley, would get sick at the mere thought of it. Thinking about the ridiculousness of Hermione seeing Blaise Zabini didn't seem to help, either.

For Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, not all their distractions were so light-hearted. Not long after Hermione's "incident," Harry pulled his friends aside to confide in them something big. Something unequivocally dangerous, as well.

The horcruxes.

It seemed that he'd finally been successful in getting Slughorn's memory - Hermione felt like she missed something important, there, but the boys wouldn't admit anything and Ron grew red in the face when she asked - and it explained so much. It also opened up about a hundred questions, but Hermione had to push those aside for now. All that mattered was that Voldemort had split his soul… And Harry was about to go retrieve it.

She could have a heart attack just thinking about it... Though admittedly, the timing couldn't be better. When Katie Bell returned from St. Mungo's, the first thing Harry did was interrogate the poor girl, and his suspicions about Draco had redoubled. Hermione tried to subtly argue him out of it any time Harry brought it up, but pretty soon she'd stop sounding logical and start sounding as stubborn as he did.

 _I'm an awful person,_ she told herself, thinking it all back over. _"It couldn't be better timing?" Harry's been my best friend for years. Whose side am I really on?_

Still, she needed to keep his mind off of Draco, and at some point she'd stop caring about those weird looks Harry and Ron gave each other whenever she changed the subject.

…

Draco, for his part, felt like he hadn't had a worse set of weeks in his entire life. He went to bed early most nights, since Vince and Greg still slept in the dorm and would usually slink back in from detention around eleven. Sleep never came easy, if at all. He spent hours tossing and turning, either seething with anger toward his two former friends or fending off a creeping anxiety that he really couldn't place. It had to do with the vanishing cabinet, though. That was for sure. Late one evening, Draco wracked his brain yet again for some kind of a plan.

Something wasn't right with it, something that would keep it from working properly. He'd been so sure that it worked, before, but he'd never truly ascertained that something living would travel and _stay_ living - Draco knew this, and his moral side told him to let it be. Maybe a few Death Eaters would find themselves horribly splinched. Then Draco would just need to get his mother, go into hiding, and probably never see the light of day again.

Except Voldemort knew it wasn't finished… Draco could feel it. He could feel the Dark Lord's anger radiating out from that disgusting tattoo on his arm. How long could he hold out before he was called out and punished? Before he was tortured, or killed even, for total incompetence?

 _Oh Merlin,_ Draco thought one night, pulling his covers up over his face. _Is that it, now? That's what I am - bloody incompetent. Not impudent, not even rebellious, just totally fucking incapable of getting this right._

His eyes burned, and he felt his face growing hot as well. Pretty soon terrified, frustrated, angry tears slid down Draco's face. He wiped them away silently.

The next day, Draco took a detour from his regular routine and skipped Potions altogether. He didn't have Vince or Greg to use as lookouts anymore, but it had been so long since they'd needed the Room of Requirement that Draco didn't worry too much about it. That, and Potter would be preoccupied with Slughorn's class.

That was a fringe benefit of cutting Potions - it would be two fewer hours spent staring at the back of Hermione's head, then trying to look uninterested whenever she turned around. At least, that's what Draco told himself. In reality he'd probably be much happier having those two hours back, but he needed to start moving on. Somehow.

Arriving at the correct corridor, Draco paced quickly before the door magically appeared. He took a glance either way, ensuring total privacy, then entered the room.

…

"Ah, yes," Slughorn said, looking a bit miffed when the bell rang. He'd been about to wrap up class himself, but clearly had lost track of time. "Well, excellent lesson today - and don't forget, this particular draught _will_ be on your exam!"

Several students groaned, but their professor paid no attention; he had a first-year class to prepare for next, which would be exactly as fun as it sounded.

While everyone else began chatting idly and gathering their notes and supplies, Hermione threw her things haphazardly into her bag and hopped off of her seat. She'd noticed immediately when Blaise entered the room alone earlier, and it made her worry. Draco had been looking gradually more gaunt over the last few weeks, and she couldn't keep out of it any longer.

"Blaise?" she said, walking over to the Slytherin. They'd never spoken very publicly and she wasn't sure how he'd feel about it.

He looked up from his cauldron, which had just received a very thorough _scourgify_ , then glanced at the empty seat beside him.

"Hello, Hermione," Blaise replied cordially. "Don't look now, but the others are staring." He gave her a bemused smirk. "Decided to make some waves, have you?"

Despite his warning, Hermione looked back over her shoulder; as Blaise had said, about half the class was watching them curiously. Harry most of all.

Hermione cringed, then tried to usher Blaise out of the room as quickly as possible. Drawing attention to herself was not what she'd intended - though Blaise didn't seem to mind in the least. He packed his things casually, occasionally shooting another smirk her way.

"Are you quite finished?" Hermione snapped.

"Yes, actually," said Blaise. He pulled his bag over a shoulder. Before Hermione could properly react, then, he placed a hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the door. He leaned down and lowered his voice. "Calm down, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me."

"If - if they were staring _before_ -"

"Then we just had a perfectly captive audience," Blaise interrupted. "At least _one_ of us was smart enough to use it."

Hermione, still blinking rapidly and trying to process what he'd meant, allowed herself to be led into the corridor. Students had begun to spill from their classes, and the hall filled with voices. Out here, she and Blaise didn't stick out so much. They turned a corner and ducked into an alcove - still very visible, she noticed, but they had more privacy than before.

Blaise put his hands into his pockets, his previous amusement gone.

"It's Draco," he said. "I don't know where he is right now. You're worried."

"I - er, _yes_ I'm worried," Hermione answered, still blushing furiously. "Where would he go?"

Blaise looked back out over the passing students. He didn't answer.

"And how about you explain yourself?" she went on. "This is _not_ the time to be putting ourselves out there! What are you playing at?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. He had a way of making Hermione feel stupid, but for what she had no conceivable idea.

"You've been slipping, this year," he said. "People notice when you swoop in to save the Slytherin at Slughorn's party, or when you stare at him constantly during dinner. _Yes_ , you're quite as obvious as it sounds," Blaise added, a ghost of a smile returning to his handsome face. His gaze softened. "It's dangerous for him because he's a - well, he's one of _them_ , whether he likes it or not. Fraternizing with a mudblood - their language, not mine - would get him killed. Sharing a dorm with a blood-traitor, used-to-be friend who might still be redeemable, however -"

"Oh..." Hermione said. "I think I see what you're getting at. If this whole time, it wasn't actually _Draco…_ "

"Exactly."

Hermione crossed her arms, shooting a particularly dangerous glare Blaise's way. "And just when were you planning to let me in on all of this?"

"Well, it's not like I've been _plotting_ it or something," he said. "It just came to me now... But it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Hermione huffed in annoyance, but didn't argue.

All things considered, she had to agree with Blaise's - albeit crazy-sounding - idea. Not that Hermione wanted to build up any kind of charade, but she'd been doing just that for months now anyway, hadn't she? The charade that she didn't care about Draco Malfoy, and that she _hadn't_ been actively vying for his attention.

"I'm not saying we need to actually _pretend_ anything," Blaise said, as though he read Hermione's mind. "But if we're going to talk to one another, why hide it? Let everyone else think what they will." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, at this point just about _anything_ would help Draco out. Stamping out any suspicions that you and him have a thing would be pretty optimal."

"What's going on with him?" Hermione asked, feeling her heart drop. "He's not well. It's this task, right? The one Vol- er, the one You-Know-Who gave him?"

"It must be," Blaise agreed. "He won't tell me what the _fuck_ it is, though. Sorry."

"Don't be," Hermione said, shaking her head. "That's about what I think of it, too."

"Er - you know, there is someone who _does_ know…" Blaise said. "Actually… Two people. Three, if you count Snape. But two within reach."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, and Hermione felt an instant hatred building in her gut. She knew exactly which two idiots Blaise meant, and was glad he hadn't mentioned their names. Her hands clenched into fists.

"Maybe we should have a little _chat_ with them, then," she muttered.

"Out for blood, Granger?" Blaise said, a teasing note to his voice. "Not that I blame you. We really thought we gave McLaggen hell last year, but thinking back, it all looks like child's play now."

Hermione's brow furrowed; Blaise realized that Draco might not have filled her in on their vendetta against Pansy's ex-boyfriend. In hindsight, that was probably smart.

"Er, don't worry about that," Blaise continued quickly. "Anyway. Right. We should -"

He paused, his eyes flashing very briefly. Hermione began to turn to look at what Blaise saw, but before she could, he'd leaned in close again.

"Look, I'm just really worried about him, alright?" Blaise said suddenly. He put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, and looked directly into her eyes. Any other girl would have melted on the spot, Hermione knew. "Just… If you get the chance, try to talk to him. Maybe he'll listen to you, since… Well, since you have his best friend's interest at heart." He finished with a warm half-smile. Hermione's heart did an odd flutter.

But Blaise had straightened up now, and stepped away from Hermione. He stared over her head, and he looked - dare she say it - _flustered_.

"Potter," Blaise said curtly.

Hermione spun around and, sure enough, Harry stood only a few feet away. A strange expression had overcome him, like a mix between surprise and suspicion. Hermione glanced quickly between Harry and Blaise, trying to come up with something to say.

"Oh, hi Harry," she said, rather lamely. "We were just - er -"

"See you around, Hermione," Blaise cut in, adding emphasis to her first name. He strode past Harry, offering a decidedly-neutral stare, before taking off down the corridor.

Hermione, now quite flustered herself, glared down at her shoes. She'd never been a very good actress.

"So…" Harry said. "That was interesting."

…

For reasons that Hermione couldn't fathom, Harry didn't ask any questions about Blaise that afternoon. It almost made her more nervous, if at all possible. Her friends weren't the kind of people to let their petty hunches go, so why start now?

She, Harry, Ron, and Ginny all spent the hours before dinner in the common room, Hermione attempting to study her arithmancy while the other three talked animatedly about quidditch. Ron grew gradually more green in the face at their conversation went on; this was probably for the better, Hermione supposed, so he wouldn't notice the budding attraction between his best friend and little sister.

The Harry-Ginny dynamic was also very fortunate, Hermione thought, since it obviously distracted Harry from thinking about Draco and Blaise. It was a welcome relief. She couldn't stand for Harry to keep playing detective with Draco's personal matters, and she also wasn't keen on having to explain her "interest" in Blaise. It was all getting quite complicated.

Hermione couldn't think. She stared down at her notes, knowing that she had about a dozen things to go over - and feeling half-tempted to visit Professor Vector and go over her last assignment, which she'd probably only got an A on - and her mind wandered back to Draco.

He looked downright sickly these days. She just wanted to help him… But if he was right, and a sinking feeling told Hermione that he was, then keeping her distance was the best thing to do. It wasn't fair. It didn't help, either, that her fondest memories of Draco came from the Room of Requirement. They'd spent evening after evening there, and it had given Hermione some pathetic hope that it was real, that they could happen. How wrong she'd been.

"Well, I'm off for dinner I think," Ginny announced, hopping off of the couch. She lingered for a moment. "Anyone else going?"

Ron only mumbled something about dinner before jumping up, clapping a hand over his mouth, and running from the room.

"Not him, then," Ginny said, scrunching up her nose.

"I'll catch up," Hermione replied. "I have some studying to do, I think."

"See you down there," Harry said. When Hermione glanced up, though, he hadn't left. He'd spoken to Ginny, who now headed for the Great Hall a bit dejectedly.

"What did you do that for?" Hermione asked. "She wanted you to go, you know."

"I know," Harry said, crossing his arms. "I'm not _that_ thick. I just have other things to worry about."

Nervousness began creeping in. Hermione chewed on her lip. "Like what?"

"Like why you're running about with Zabini," Harry said. "I mean, I'd rather it be him than Malfoy, but come _on_ Hermione. How do you know he didn't _imperius_ Katie?"

"Excuse me?" Hermione squeaked. "He did not!"

She'd never been very good at lying.

"Whatever," Harry said, annoyed. He got up from the couch and headed for the boys' dormitories, thoroughly disappointed in his best friend's taste in blokes. "Just thought you'd go for more than looks, that's all."

Hermione watched him go, not sure what exactly to say.

…

In the absence of her friends' distracting conversation, Hermione could actually focus on her school work. Unfortunately, it just reminded her that she _really_ needed to see Professor Vector. She couldn't risk getting anything other than an O on her final.

Halfway down the corridor, though, she lost steam. Her resolve to focus diminished almost immediately, replaced by worry and curiosity. Where the hell was Draco? And was he alright?

 _Get it together, Hermione_ , she told herself. Her head hurt. Maybe what she needed, more than anything, was some sleep.

Feeling more than a little pathetic, she turned and headed back to the common room. Now that she thought about it, her back ached as well. Maybe it was stress-related. Even Hermione could tell that her stress levels this year were pretty high, and usually she couldn't see anything other than the need to succeed. Everything else was secondary.

" _Ooof!_ "

Her arithmancy book flying out of her hands, Hermione looked up to find that she'd run face-first into Harry. Or rather, _he'd_ run into _her…_ His face was flushed, and he had his wand in hand.

"Hermione," he said in surprise, shrinking back a bit.

"In a hurry, are you?" she said.

"Er - yeah. Something like that. Fill you in later."

"Oh no you _don't_ ," Hermione snapped, grabbing Harry's elbow before he could get away. "What are you up to? I know that look." Then her eyes went wide. "I _know_ that look! This has to do with D- er, with Malfoy, doesn't it?"

Harry winced. "Look, I know you don't approve -"

"Approve of what?" Hermione asked. "You stalking him on that stupid map? No, I don't, frankly. But - you found him, didn't you?" She hurriedly picked up her book, feeling a surge of energy. "You found out where he's been going."

"Maybe," Harry said. "Probably not, but if I go now, then maybe I could find out."

He started to walk away, but Hermione caught his arm again.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Look, I know your _boyfriend_ asked you to help Malfoy out," Harry growled, clearly unhappy with the delay, "But you're not stopping me this time -"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "I'm going with you."

Harry paused, mouth still open. He frowned.

"Er, I'm really not sure that's -"

"I'm going."

Gritting his teeth, Harry didn't take long to make up his mind. As much as he'd rather not have Hermione tag along, he didn't want to give up an opportunity to spy on Malfoy, either. Especially something as odd as Malfoy being cooped up in a girls' lavatory with Moaning Myrtle.

" _Fine_ ," Harry ground out. He didn't wait for Hermione's response, though, and instead took off at a run. If she wanted to come, then she'd need to keep up.

Hermione barely hesitated before running off as well. She kept right on Harry's heels, quite amazed that they didn't pass anyone else in the corridor. She also wanted to ask where they were going, but knew it wasn't the right time yet. By the time Harry slowed down, Hermione recognized the corridor they'd ended up in. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Harry shot her a glare, remaining silent.

They crept nearer to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Hermione's heart fell into her stomach. She heard someone sniff on the other side, and it wasn't Myrtle.

Harry reached over to open the door, but Hermione slapped his hand.

"Don't," she warned, voice barely audible.

"We can't hear anything out here," Harry hissed. He pressed his ear up to the door. "They're talking! What if it's important?"

"Harry…" Hermione whispered pleadingly. She didn't like his obsessive determination. More than that, she was afraid he'd be right. "Let me then, alright?"

"Let you what?"

"Talk to him."

A look of utter exasperation crossed Harry's face. " _Talk_ to him? We're not here to _talk_ to him -"

"Oh, come off it!" Hermione growled, jabbing a finger into Harry's chest. "I know you heard Blaise earlier, and you know he's right. Sneaking around and eavesdropping isn't always the answer. He clearly needs _help_."

She felt desperate to get through that door, but at the same time, she also felt afraid. Something told her that Draco wouldn't appreciate getting caught crying.

Before Harry could respond, though, Hermione pushed him away. Taken aback, Harry stumbled - Hermione nudged open the lavatory door and let herself inside, confident that Harry wouldn't risk barreling through after her. She was right.

…

Draco held his face in his hands, feeling the weight of everything come crashing down around him. He leaned over the lavatory sink, shoulders slumped, and once again he cried.

" _Ssshh_ , stop that," cooed Myrtle. She floated about somewhere above him. "Tell me about it, let me help…"

It didn't make any sense at all, but having Myrtle there actually eased a bit of Draco's stress. She'd been with him through the last few weeks - the last few meltdowns - and it was infinitely better than being alone… But it still didn't fix the problem.

He looked down at the piece of parchment he'd tossed to the floor. In a scraggly, spidery handwriting, it read: _The bird better have been dead before you sent it._ He'd found the note sitting at the bottom of the cabinet earlier that day, a bit dusty from waiting to be noticed.

So they knew… The Death Eaters probably thought he was still working steadily on the cabinet, nearly there; or maybe they thought he had cold feet and had halted progress altogether. It had been over two months since Draco sent the bird, after all.

And it most certainly hadn't been dead at the time.

A wave of fresh, hot tears spilled from Draco's eyes. It would be great to just give in and let himself cry, to let it all out, but something always tugged at him and said to hold it all in. It was probably his father's voice, he knew. Men didn't _cry_ , after all. How preposterous.

"I don't know what to do," he said, his voice sounding tired and weak. "I don't know how to fix it… And if I don't do it soon… He'll kill me."

A shudder gripped him at the words. It was all true. Even if Draco made the decision to finish mending the cabinet, he didn't know _how_. He'd followed all the books and made the structure right again, but if he didn't know the original spell used to link the cabinets in the first place, then he couldn't very well fix it.

He heard a slight creak; behind him, the door opened. A quick glance at the mirror told him that someone had entered the lavatory. Before Draco knew it, his wand was in his hand, and he'd whirled around to face the intruder.

Hermione gasped, stepping back.

"Oh - it's you," Draco said, lowering his wand. He wiped his face furiously, trying to remove any proof that he'd just been sobbing his eyes out.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked breathlessly. She started walking toward him, but he stepped back.

"Don't," he said. "Don't come over here."

Hermione's face fell. Draco hated it. All this time, this was exactly what he'd wanted - to have Hermione there, to have her when he needed her - but now, he had to turn her away.

"Draco," she said quietly, "It's okay. No one needs to know I was here."

"He _said_ 'don't come over here.'" Myrtle, who Hermione hadn't noticed until just now, came swooping down between the two. "Now go away."

Hermione blinked. She stared at Myrtle, then looked over to Draco, who wouldn't meet her gaze. Was that really what he wanted?

"I don't _want_ to leave," Hermione whispered. "Please, Draco -"

"It's like you've forgotten already," Draco spat, his voice suddenly harsh. "Remember what happens when you get too close?"

"I haven't - and that wasn't your fault!" Hermione stepped forward, ignoring Myrtle entirely. "What they did wasn't your fault, Draco -"

Desperation filled him. It was like Hermione didn't realize they had a witness here, someone to pass on the gossip that they were together in the lavatory. He needed to get her out before she did anything stupid.

Slowly lifting his wand up, and hating himself for it, Draco aimed directly at Hermione's chest. He raised his voice. "I said _get out_."

Just then, the lavatory door opened again - only this time, Potter's ugly face appeared. The Gryffindor glanced quickly between Hermione, who looked quite upset now, and Draco, who had a wand pointed threateningly her way.

Harry, not speaking, shot a powerful _levicorpus_ Draco's way, careful not to hit Hermione. Draco waved it away easily.

"No - stop it!" Hermione shrieked, stepping between them. " _Stop it!_ "

"Get out of the way, Hermione!" Harry yelled, taken over by rage. He'd hated Malfoy for years, and this was the perfect time to act on it.

Draco reached forward and grasped the back of Hermione's robes. He wrenched her out of the way, keeping his wand trained on Harry the whole time.

" _Reducto!_ " Draco yelled. The bin behind Harry exploded, while a curse from Harry did the same to the sink behind Draco; porcelain shattered, and water sprayed from the broken faucet.

Filled with a new kind of fury - Hermione had stood in front of that sink only a moment before, and Potter hadn't seemed to care - Draco thought of the strongest curse he knew. " _Cruc-_ "

But Harry, in a flash, had attacked again. " _Sectumsempra!_ "

Draco immediately knew something was wrong. His skin began to burn. All thoughts of the duel left him, and distantly he heard the clatter of his wand falling to the floor. He stared down at his hands, and watched in horror as his skin began to split into bloody, gaping wounds. It felt like someone invisible had just slashed him with a knife - hands, arms, chest, face -

Hermione screamed, Myrtle shouted about murder, and Harry fell to his knees, but Draco knew none of it. A dim realization prodded at him. Through the pain, he smiled faintly; even this was a merciful death, compared to what Voldemort would do to him. As a dark cloud filled Draco's vision, he felt only one thing.

Relief.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait, college kicked my ass this last week. Also, I know this is a bit rough, and I'm sorry for that as well. I probably could've waited and refined it a bit, but I got impatient... My bad. Haha.

We'll start getting back into Draco's head now, but with him feeling/acting so erratic under all this stress, it felt right to be removed. Let me know what you think about that decision!

Aaaaand: I'm taking a poll in my reviews for this chapter. Do you think this story could have a better title? I'm beginning to think it could. What are your suggestions?

Thanks for reading! Love you all.

Penny


	31. These End Results

**Chapter Thirty: These End Results**

It was both a blessing and a curse to see Snape burst through the lavatory door; no other professor would punish them so severely, and neither would any professor so surely know the counter-curse to such an obscure dark spell.

 _Except Dumbledore_ , Hermione thought vaguely, her mind working even as she stood in shock. But she wasn't standing now - at some point she'd fallen to her knees, and had gathered Draco up into her lap. Snape didn't shoo her away, to her great surprise.

"I didn't mean it," Harry said, visibly shaking.

Snape paid him no mind either, instead sweeping down to the floor and drawing his wand. He started at Draco's face, reciting a strangely melodic incantation while urging the spilled blood to return, urging the gashed skin to knit itself together. Hermione brushed Draco's hair out of his face, but only once Snape had safely moved on to the boy's torso.

It didn't take long for Snape to finish his work, and Draco began to stir, a look of confused pain in his grey eyes. Snape stood, then pulled Draco up as well, half-carrying his student.

"You'll need the hospital wing," Snape said. "Dittany will help with the scarring. If we get there quickly enough, you might just avoid it altogether."

Hermione stood, wiping her bloody hands on her robes. "Should I..?"

"No." Snape shot her a glare. "You stay here, with Potter. I'll be back for the both of you."

Wanting to argue, but knowing it wouldn't do any good, Hermione only nodded. She began to feel the cold through her water-soaked clothes and shoes, and the chill brought her back down to earth.

After Snape left, Harry and Hermione didn't speak. Part of Hermione wanted to scream at her friend for being so reckless, to try that curse on Harry and see how much _he_ liked it - but the other part of her knew that his guilt was enough. Harry might hate Draco, but he never would've hurt him so badly on purpose. Draco, on the other hand...

Hermione ran her fingers through her tangle of hair. Surely it wasn't the Cruciatus Curse he'd been about to use... No, not _her_ Draco. It wasn't possible. She knew he wasn't exactly himself these days, but to cast an Unforgiveable... Hermione couldn't fathom it.

Snape returned before she had much of a chance to dwell on it. He stepped into the lavatory, swished his wand wordlessly at the sink (which repaired itself at once) and ordered Myrtle to leave. The ghost flew promptly to her toilet and disappeared.

"It appears I've underestimated you, Potter," Snape drawled. "Now, where would you have picked up such a dark spell?"

Hermione watched as Harry struggled to put together a lie. She wanted to answer for him, to tell Snape all about the stupid potions book, but she couldn't speak.

"I read it in a book," Harry said. "A library book."

"Liar," Snape said.

Then something odd happened. Snape and Harry stared at each other, neither speaking, yet Hermione saw conversation in their faces. Harry grew uncomfortable, while Snape straightened and lifted his chin. It clicked. Hermione was witnessing legilimency in action.

"Bring me your books, Potter," Snape said, his voice surprisingly soft. "All of them. Now."

Harry didn't hesitate; in his wake, before the door shut with a low thud, his footsteps echoed as he started to run.

Hermione stared at the floor, not sure what to do.

"You just used legilimency on him, didn't you?" she asked quietly.

Snape's black eyes, filled with disdain, landed on the younger girl.

"Can't keep your over-sized brain off of academics, can you Granger?"

She fell silent, not sure what she'd really expected him to say anyway.

They stood in silence for several long, drawn-out minutes, the only sound being Hermione's gradually slowing heartbeat in her ears. Then Harry returned, bookbag in tow.

Snape held his hand out, and Harry gave up his things without a word. One by one, Snape pulled books out of the sack; after a thorough examination, each was stacked in a neat pile on the sink. Finally, the potions book had its turn.

 _But... That's not the book_ , Hermione thought frantically. She glared at Harry, not that he nor Snape noticed.

"This is yours?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Harry answered.

"The copy you personally purchased at Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes."

"Then why," Snape said, flipping open the cover, "Does it clearly say 'property of Roonil Wazlib?'"

"Well that's Harry's _nickname_ , of course," Hermione said dryly, highly unamused. She crossed her arms over her chest, still glaring.

Snape looked at her levelly, then back to Harry. "Your nickname," he repeated.

"Well yeah..." Harry said. "That's what my friends call me."

"I understand the concept of nicknames, Potter," Snape seethed. He snapped the book shut. Then he leaned forward, towering menacingly over Harry, and continued. "But I think maybe instead it should say 'Liar and Cheat,' don't you? And I also think you deserve to have detention with me every Saturday until the end of the term." His dark eyes dared Harry to argue.

"Ten o'clock Saturday morning," Snape said. "My office."

Hermione watched the gears in Harry's head turn quickly; Saturday morning was the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match.

 _He deserves it,_ she thought. _Maybe it'll knock some sense into him._

"But sir..." Harry tried. "Quidditch -"

"Poor Gryffindor," Snape said, smiling cruelly. He opened the lavatory door to leave, then paused. "And Granger... Next time your idiot friend picks a fight, I _strongly_ suggest that you intervene."

Then he left, the hem of his robe swishing as he went.

Hermione rubbed her face, trying to take it all in, but at this point she was too tired to feel a thing. The urge to start kicking Harry had ebbed away, and strangely so had the urge to go see Draco. She wasn't sure she wanted to, not knowing...

 _He was about to_ crucio _my best friend._

"Come on, Harry," she said quietly, placing a hand resignedly on his elbow. "Let's get going."

Harry didn't protest in the least. The two walked slowly back to their common room together, ignoring the stares and questions they received on the way.

...

Pansy and Blaise fled through the corridors, running as fast as their feet could carry them, paying no attention to any curious glances they received as they went. At some point Pansy had reached out and grasped Blaise's hand; if he were to look over, he'd see she was crying as she ran.

A few minutes earlier, a younger Slytherin girl had burst into the common room, exclaiming about Moaning Myrtle and how she'd witnessed an attack in the bathroom. An attack on Draco Malfoy. One that left him bloody and unconscious on the floor.

Blaise had leapt up first, while Pansy stood a little more slowly, wondering how true the rumor could be. Then they made eye-contact, and something in Pansy told her _this is real. This is very real._

They barely slowed as they reached the hospital wing, where Madame Pomfrey met them at the door.

"Oh, it's you two," she said breathlessly. The medi-witch had a light sheen of sweat on her brow. "Come in, then. He's resting, but I suppose he'd want to see you."

This, of course, only made Pansy worry more. Madame Pomfrey was never one to be lax about her patients and their rest.

Blaise, however, didn't need invited twice. He strode quickly to the back of the wing, where only one bed had the curtains drawn around it, and Madame Pomfrey gave him a small nod. Blaise drew the curtain back, then motioned for Pansy to take the nearest chair.

Draco lay on the cot, his eyes closed, and his face looked sallow. He didn't seem peaceful, that was for sure. A crease across his brow gave him a deeply-anxious appearance.

Pansy scooted the chair up to the cot, then took up Draco's hand.

"Do you think it was true?" she asked, once Madame Pomfrey was out of earshot. "All of it, I mean."

Blaise frowned. "It's hard to say. I wouldn't put it past Potter, but..."

"But you know Granger too well," Pansy said. "Well enough to think she wouldn't hurt a fly, right?"

Pansy gave Blaise a sharp look - one she'd reserved for this exact conversation, even though the timing was all wrong. His frown deepened, which only marginally diminished his inherent handsomeness.

"Look, I agree with you," Pansy went on, "I don't think she had much to do with it. But you must know he's unhappy about it." She looked sadly at Draco. "He'll never let on, but you know he fancies her."

Blaise blinked. He opened his mouth to retort, to deny it on Draco's behalf, but couldn't get the untruth out.

"I wonder if that had anything to do with what happened..." Pansy said, more to herself than anything else.

"Probably not," Blaise said. "Potter fancies the Weasley girl, so it's not like they'd fight over Hermione. But... I did ask her to keep an eye on him, Pan."

Pansy merely nodded.

"And he doesn't fancy her. He told me himself, before -"

"Bullocks." Pansy rolled her eyes. "He lied through his teeth, then. You were just being too selfish to admit it."

"Believe me," Blaise said, clenching his jaw, "I have been _anything_ but selfish."

That string of conversation ended there, with Blaise and Pansy each quietly seething at one another. They didn't care to lighten the mood, but to simply wait and see if Draco's condition would change - aside from an occasional shudder through his limbs, it did not.

Blaise studied his unconscious friend very carefully, noting the razor-thin, shiny lines slashed across his skin. Pansy must've noticed as well, because she began tracing the marks with her fingertips.

"That tickles, you know."

Pansy and Blaise jumped. Eyes still closed, Draco now wore a bemused - if not tired-looking - smirk on his face.

"You're awake!" Pansy cooed. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain? What can I get you?"

"Pan," Blaise muttered warningly.

"Oh... Right." The dark-haired girl shrank back a touch. "Too much."

Draco's eyes finally opened, and he squinted against the light.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Blaise glanced at his watch. "Quarter to eight. We haven't been here long."

Draco pulled himself to a sitting position, groaning from the effort (at which Pansy jumped up and began frantically fluffing his pillows) then rubbed at his face. He held his hands out, turning them about and searching for scars.

"Mum'll kill me," he said. "My perfect skin, ruined."

"Don't worry too much," Pansy replied. "Dittany takes a while to work. This time tomorrow you'll be good as new."

Draco smiled faintly. "Someone's been paying attention in class."

"And just think, she could be a bonafide _genius_ if it weren't for Theo." Blaise grinned, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the ribs from a suddenly-annoyed Pansy. "What? You spend half your time staring at him, passing notes, _snogging_ -"

"I'm not talking to you." Pansy tossed her long hair at Blaise, then crossed her arms with a " _hmph_."

"Ugh, way to go mate," Draco said to Blaise. "You know I can't handle Pansy's undivided attention in this state."

At that, Pansy stuck her tongue out at Draco - but when she looked away again, he could tell she was smiling. He didn't want Pansy to worry over him, even if that worry was entirely warranted. And now that she'd calmed down...

"Er, Pansy," Draco said, "Thanks for coming... But I think I might need -"

"Guy time," she finished. "Yes, obviously. I only came here to keep up appearances anyway." Standing up primly, Pansy took a moment to brush off her robes. Then, with a small sigh, she turned back to Draco. The concern had returned to her eyes. "I'm really glad you're okay. See you later, then?"

"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "See you later."

Pansy bent down and kissed Draco's cheek, then offered Blaise a half-serious glare before heading out into the corridor.

Once their female friend left, Blaise and Draco fell into silence again. The smiles slipped from their faces, replaced with serious expressions as they lost themselves in thought.

"I need help," Draco said quietly.

"With what?" Blaise asked.

"The vanishing cabinet. I can't get it to work."

"I thought you finished it ages ago..." Blaise said, brow furrowing.

"No," Draco said. "Thought I did, but something's not right."

Blaise eyed his friend skeptically. "Are you asking me to help you fix it, or asking me to help you get away?"

Draco rubbed at his left forearm, which Madame Pomfrey had bandaged. Or had she? He vaguely remembered Snape telling the healer that he'd already fixed it up. "I can't get away. Not this time… Not yet."

Nodding slowly, Blaise thought this over. He really had no intention of aiding in any Death Eater affairs - really, he'd rather stay out of it altogether - but if he didn't, who knew what would happen to Draco? If Blaise said no, then Draco could wind up dead.

"I'll do it," Blaise answered. "Any way I can help, I will. And that includes getting you out... You know, when you can."

It looked like Draco had been holding his breath, and at Blaise's assent, he finally let it out. Something akin to relief flitted across his pale face.

"So what happened?" Blaise asked quietly. "Earlier, with Potter, and... With her?"

"Speaking of _her_ ," Draco said, ignoring the question, "It sounded like Pansy had a few interesting things to say."

"Wait, you heard that?" Blaise blinked, once again taken aback. "You bloody _sneak_ , you were eavesdropping on us…"

Draco quirked an eyebrow, waiting patiently for his friend to continue.

"Er, it sounded bad, didn't it?" Blaise asked. "It's not like that, though. Really. It's just that we've been talking recently - usually about you, at any rate - and some of her friends have noticed. Ours too, apparently." He paused, looking mildly annoyed. "Anyway… I just figured that if everyone thought she fancied _me_ , then it wouldn't look so suspect when she's around you."

Phrased like that, it didn't seem so crazy to Blaise. He hoped Draco would see it that way.

"I appreciate it," Draco replied after a moment. "But I don't think she'll be around much anymore."

"Still in denial, are you?" Blaise asked. "I don't know how many times I need to tell you. She's over the bloody _moon_ for you, mate -"

"No." Draco clenched his fists, fighting back the intense anger he felt toward himself. "She was, maybe. Not now. Not after…" He trailed off, not wanting to explain it out loud.

 _I was going to use the cruciatus curse on her best friend. She won't forgive that._

"What did you do?" Blaise asked slowly.

Draco closed his eyes. "I tried an Unforgivable on him."

"You _what?_ "

"I don't know why it happened, I just got so _angry_. I wasn't thinking, I -"

"This was after Potter attacked you, right?"

Draco didn't answer.

"Mate," Blaise said, shaking his head, "You're in too deep."

"I know..." Draco said. "I know."

…

Hermione strode down the corridor, her usual stack of notes and books tucked under her arm. They didn't have much time before the term ended, and that meant final exams, and quite frankly Hermione felt dreadfully behind at this point. She'd let everything else get in the way of her studies. She wasn't behaving like herself.

A few days had passed since the incident at the lavatory, and her anger toward both Harry and Draco had faded somewhat. The fact was, she couldn't _afford_ to be angry - not with Draco so badly injured, and Harry making plans with Dumbledore to run off and find horcruxes.

It had begun to feel like they really were on the brink of war. To be fair, the war started for Hermione when she first glimpsed the Death Eaters at the quidditch world cup. This… It was just a heightened sense of foreboding. After all, when had a year at Hogwarts _not_ ended with a catastrophe of some kind?

Hermione slowed, hearing footsteps up ahead. Past the bend in the corridor, it sounded like someone was pacing…

She paused, listening closely.

 _The Room of Requirement_ , Hermione thought, realizing where she was. _So who's trying to get in?_

Mustering up her courage, Hermione stepped around the corner, where she came face-to-face with someone entirely unexpected. Theo Nott, a Slytherin with sandy-blond hair and a rather burly frame, had halted in his tracks. He seemed frustrated, judging by the sweat on his brow and the way his hands had clenched into fists. A look of surprise crossed his face when he spotted Hermione.

"Wotcher," he said gruffly. He gave a sideways glance to the blank wall beside him.

"Nott," Hermione greeted. She glanced at her watch. "It's a bit late to be out, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Theo said, "Hadn't noticed."

The two stared at each other, and when it became clear that neither planned to leave, Hermione crossed her arms. She knew exactly where her wand was this time - a habit now that bordered on paranoia - and she could reach it easily in her skirt pocket. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Nott hadn't ever gotten on her bad side, but he _was_ a Slytherin. That made his character difficult to judge. While Draco and Blaise had gained Hermione's trust, Crabbe and Goyle had cast a shadow over her opinion of Slytherin house as a whole. So where did Nott fall in all of this?

"I know you're not a prefect," Hermione said calmly. "And it's after-hours. I'd rather not give you detention tonight."

Nott's mouth fell into a straight line. He really didn't want to give up, did he?

"Fine," he said. But instead of turning around, he walked toward Hermione - who inwardly panicked, even though Nott took slow strides and made no move to draw his wand. He stepped past her, and she stood her ground stubbornly. Nott paused right when his broad shoulder brushed up against hers.

"You don't want to get mixed up in this, Granger," Nott said lowly. "Something big is on its way... Keep your head down and you just might survive."

He stepped away, then continued down the corridor and out of sight.

Frozen to the spot, Hermione listened as Nott's footsteps faded away. His words scared her, but more than that, she couldn't tell what he'd meant by them. Was it a threat? Or was it a warning?

After chewing over the possibilities for a long minute, Hermione started toward Gryffindor Tower, though she made sure to look over her shoulder first. The corridor was dark and empty.

…

The next evening, Draco found himself eating dinner amongst his friends for the first time in months. He and Blaise had spent the afternoon in the Come-And-Go room tinkering with the vanishing cabinet, and after some successful-looking progress, they'd conjured a live mouse to send through. Instead of waiting for results amid the junk, however, Blaise had convinced Draco to take a break.

So now, with Pansy and Theo across the table, the four were able to finally catch up. Draco found himself smiling and laughing, amazingly; he'd needed this more than he'd ever realized. It felt bloody _good_.

"Well she can't possibly be upset with me _now_ ," Pansy said, continuing her rant against Blaise's mother. "Unless she thinks that I'm dating Theo as a diversion… Hm. I suppose I could be playing the long-con. What do you think?" She flashed a teasing smile at her boyfriend.

"Then by all means, play away," Theo said, taking a bite of potato. "Long-con or not, I'm enjoying it. What about you, Draco - any plans for the holiday?"

Truth be told, Draco hadn't put much thought into it. Perhaps he hadn't actually believed he'd live long enough to see summer - but that wasn't polite dinner conversation, now was it?

"Er, quidditch I think," he lied. "For fun. Mother's mentioned taking a painting class, of all things -"

A surge of pain ripped through Draco's left arm. He gasped, clutching at it through his robes; thankfully, Theo had taken that exact moment to choke on his pumpkin juice, so the others didn't notice. Draco held his forearm under the table, his pulse racing.

"You, a painter?" Pansy laughed, patting Theo on the back.

Draco didn't hear, however. He'd turned his attention to the staff table, where everyone was present except Dumbledore - not that the Headmaster mattered much in this moment. Snape had stood from his seat, but made no move to touch his arm. He wouldn't give himself away like that.

"Draco?" Blaise asked.

Draco's three friends followed his gaze up to their Head of House, who stared back intently. After a moment, Snape nodded sharply.

 _He wants me to leave?_ Draco thought, utterly baffled. _Right in the middle of dinner?_

"I've got to go," Draco said, knowing better than to lie at this point.

"I'll go with you… Didn't agree with me," Theo added, motioning toward his food. He kissed Pansy on the forehead. "Don't wait up, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh - okay," Pansy said. She shared a look of confusion with Blaise.

Draco didn't care much to have Theo tagging along, not that he could spare much concern over it. He'd find a way to shake him off, and then Draco could get to Snape's office. He had a meeting with Voldemort to attend.

Across the Great Hall, Hermione watched the two make their swift exit. She glanced back to the table, where Blaise caught her eye. His expressionless face said it all.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Alright, SO MUCH about this chapter. But first, THANK YOU for your reviews! I had no idea you all liked the title. Since you do, Pre-Not will stick. And also, thank you to _.16_ \- you gave me a bit of inspiration. Probably not the inspiration you intended, though. ;)

I'm worried that the movement of time was rushed. I know you expected a big blow-out on Hermione's part, but we're not there yet. If you thought _Sectumsempra_ was a big chapter, just wait for the Battle of Hogwarts. And yes, it's well on its way.

Please leave a review - I love good, honest critique. Let me know what you're looking forward to, and what you did or didn't like. I really do tap into your input when I go to write the next chapter.

Love you all,

Penny


	32. Do Not Go Gentle -

**Chapter Thirty-One: Do Not Go Gentle...**

As they were about to pass the Slytherin common room, Draco prepared an excuse to give Theo, something to allow him to continue on inconspicuously. When they reached the entrance, however, he found that Theo didn't slow or turn to face the door. Draco paused, a bit flustered by the setback.

"Hurry up," Theo called over his shoulder. "He won't want to be kept waiting."

Draco's feet began to move, but inwardly his head swam with thoughts. Theo didn't mean Voldemort, did he? He couldn't… Draco was the only student Death Eater at Hogwarts. The more he thought about it, though, Draco realized he must be wrong. Theo reacted at the same time Draco's Dark Mark burned. Theo had been just as eager to leave the table…

And Theo was right, Voldemort _wouldn't_ want to be kept waiting.

They arrived at Snape's office, and by the looks of it, he had beaten them there. The torches on the walls were lit, as well as the fireplace, which usually stood empty.

"Here," Snape said, appearing at Draco's elbow. Draco jumped, but recovered quickly. Snape held out an open jar of floo powder, of which Draco took a pinch. Theo did the same.

"We won't be able to return by it," their professor continued grimly. "But, as I understand it, there is a remedy for that." His black eyes landed on Draco.

Draco reeled. Snape must have meant the vanishing cabinet. Had it really worked? Was that why the meeting had been called?

 _He's going to kill me_ , Draco thought, his mouth going dry. After all, he hadn't offed Dumbledore yet. As much as completing one task was great, Voldemort wouldn't see it that way. He wasn't exactly a glass-half-full kind of person.

"Let's go," Snape said, bringing Draco back to reality. He strode over to the fire, tossed in his pinch of floo powder, and spoke clearly: "Malfoy Manor."

"What?" Draco said, his face falling. He paid no mind as Snape disappeared into a flash of green flames. The Death Eaters were in his _home?_

Theo nudged him. "Are you going or not?"

Draco blinked, still trying to keep up. "You first."

Theo nodded, but still cast a concerned look over his shoulder as he went. He didn't seem entirely convinced that Draco would follow through. Turning back to the fire, Theo followed Snape's example and tossed his floo powder in. "Malfoy Manor."

The fireplace burst with color, then Theo was gone.

 _I don't need to go_ , Draco thought suddenly. This could be it, the moment when he grew a backbone and defied Lord Voldemort - the moment he walked away with a target on his back. He could walk away now… And never stop running.

The image of his mother came to mind. While she wasn't a Death Eater, Voldemort had taken over her home. _She_ had nowhere to run. If Draco fled, _she_ would be the one punished.

Dragging in a breath, Draco threw his floo powder into the fire.

"Malfoy Manor," he said. And he stepped in.

…

Shortly after she'd watched Draco - flanked by Nott, of all people - leave the Great Hall, Hermione excused herself from the table and, as calmly as she could, followed them. Not that she made it far.

 _They're long gone by now_ , she thought, staring down the corridor. As much as she wanted to run after them, she knew she wouldn't catch up. Not if they were leaving the castle.

"Oy, Hermione."

She turned. Blaise must've had the same idea that she did, because he arrived only seconds after her. They stood in the Entrance Hall, still well in view of their dining classmates, not that Hermione cared much.

"Blaise," she replied. "Tell me that wasn't what I think it -"

"Wait for me! I'm not about to eat by myself like -"

Pansy appeared just behind Blaise. Her dark eyes landed on Hermione, and the girl's posture immediately stiffened.

"Oh," Pansy said with a glare, "I didn't mean to _interrupt_."

Hermione, quite wishing to speak with Blaise privately - she didn't know how much Pansy knew about all of this - gave him an imploring look. Blaise went on without noticing.

"I think it is," he said to her. "Snape just left too, and that's never a good sign."

"Does that mean Nott's one of them, too?" Hermione asked.

Pansy, already put-out from being ignored, stepped closer to Blaise's elbow. She seemed a lot more concerned now.

"One of _what?_ " she demanded.

"I don't know," Blaise said. "The timing looked pretty suspect, though. He hasn't said anything to you, Pan?"

"Anything about _what?_ "

"About being a Death Eater like Draco." Blaise spoke quietly, but the bluntness of it took both girls aback.

"He's - what? No," Pansy replied, though her face fell. "I - I would know if he was."

"That's all quite well, but we know where Snape and Draco went, and Nott seems to have tagged along," Hermione said.

" _Do_ we know, though?" Blaise asked.

"Unfortunately, I think we do," Hermione said. "Blaise, you need to tell me what you've been up to. This isn't good timing... I think this could be much worse than just a meeting…"

Blaise glanced around. While no one could hear them currently, he didn't care to risk having such sensitive information out in the open. Really, his better judgement told him to say nothing, that this wasn't his secret to spill. Hermione's last comment, though, changing his mind.

"This way," he said, walking down the corridor. At the first empty classroom, he opened the door and turned. "Both of you. Pansy, you ought to know as well."

Pansy, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by all of this, entered the room with a dazed expression. Hermione, for her part, remained focused and determined. She wasn't terribly fond of having Pansy around, but as long as they could remain civil, Hermione didn't have time to dispute it.

Blaise closed the door, then cast a silent _muffliato_ on it. He turned to the girls.

"Not just a meeting?" he repeated, eyes on Hermione. "Why do you say that? What's going on?"

Hermione hesitated. Much like Blaise, this wasn't her secret to tell; as long as she didn't say the word horcrux, however, it should be fine.

"The timing is just… Suspect, like you said." She crossed her arms nervously. This would be easier without Pansy present - easier if she knew she could everyone in the room. With a sigh, Hermione went on. "It's just… Harry left Hogwarts this afternoon, and he's not back yet. He left because Dumbledore needed him to."

While Blaise seemed confused at this, Pansy's eyes went wide.

"You think they're going after Potter?" Blaise asked, not convinced.

Pansy, however, shook her head. "Dumbledore's gone as well, isn't he? He wasn't at dinner."

 _So she's not entirely useless, after all,_ Hermione thought. She nodded slowly.

Blaise, glancing quickly between the two girls, ran a hand through his hair. "Oh no."

"That's not good," Pansy continued. "Potter _and_ Dumbledore, gone? The two people keeping He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named away from Hogwarts?"

"Well, and the wards of course," Hermione said, keeping an eye on Blaise. She hadn't seen him this visibly stressed before. "Right..?"

Blaise buried his face in his hands, swearing unintelligibly under his breath. Pansy shared a concerned look with Hermione.

"Blaise?" Pansy asked. She placed a hand on his elbow.

"Bloody _fucking_ hell," Blaise breathed. "That's the thing - the thing we've been working on - I thought if we just got it in working order, then it would buy Draco some _time_ -"

"Get what working, Blaise?" Hermione asked slowly.

Blaise, his face rapidly losing color, finally met her gaze.

"A way into Hogwarts, that's what."

…

Draco nearly stumbled into the foyer, but by some miracle he managed to stay upright. While he immediately recognized the room, it being the place of all his Christmases in the past, it really didn't feel the same at all. Barely lit, dark shadows danced across the walls. A pungent scent filled the air, one he'd experienced only at these meetings - the scent of unwashed, oily skin, of sour breath and stagnant sweat. It was the scent that surrounded the very dregs of society. The scent of Death Eaters in all their revolting glory.

"There he is!" Bella, who Draco hadn't noticed just yet, hooked an arm under his elbow. She set to towing him through the manor. "My brilliant Draco - look how grown up he's gotten, Cissy!"

They were surrounded by cloaked figures, all of whom began milling toward the largest dining room at Bella's announcement. Draco spotted Snape up ahead, and Theo as well, who looked briefly relieved. Then he spotted his mother.

She seemed tired, and previously-nonexistent wrinkles graced the edges of her eyes, which lit up at the sight of her son. She didn't appear any less exhausted, but her expression warmed considerably at least.

"Draco," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "You've done so well."

Draco didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the hug, however. As much as he wanted to remain there, where in that moment everything seemed safe, Narcissa released him. She held him at arm's length and smoothed over his hair. Draco didn't protest.

"He's waiting for you," she said quietly. "Please be careful."

At that moment, Bella yanked on Draco's arm again. She cackled with glee.

"No, we won't keep our Lord waiting," Bella said happily. She hauled him farther along, unperturbed by her sister's obvious disappointment.

Amid the whirlwind of emotions Draco felt, dread took center stage. He couldn't stop or pause to catch his breath; he wouldn't get the chance to mentally prepare for Voldemort. He couldn't even take a moment to marvel at the sheer number of Death Eaters in attendance, each cloaked and a few even wearing their masks.

 _Their masks?_ Draco thought. They only wore their masks into battle, though…

When they entered the dining room, Draco's breath hitched. There, at the other end of the room, stood the vanishing cabinet.

Draco put the pieces together quickly - cloaks and masks with every Death Eater, a meeting called, an entrance to Hogwarts now at their disposal. Not only all that, but Dumbledore hadn't been at dinner… What if he'd left the school on one of his many mysterious errands?

Everyone in the room found a seat; Bella sat beside the head of the table, and deposited Draco in the next nearest chair. Theo sat across the table from him. The boys shared a look that was unreadable on either end.

 _Theo's a Death Eater… That must have happened over Christmas_ , Draco thought. _I didn't even know… What else does he know that I don't?_

"Welcome, my friends."

All heads snapped to look toward this new voice - Voldemort's voice. Just like every other time Draco found himself in the Dark Lord's presence, his blood ran cold.

Voldemort wore his usual flowing black cloak, which gave him the appearance of a dementor, and as always Peter Pettigrew stood at his side. The contrast between Pettigrew, who looked so small and shifty-eyed, and the all-powerful, imposing figure of Voldemort made him appear even more terrible in Draco's mind. Pettigrew wrung his hands together, occasionally glancing Narcissa's way.

Striding languidly to the head of the table, and eyeing each of his servants along the way, Voldemort cast them a chilling smile. His snake-like eyes landed on Draco.

"Our time has finally come," Voldemort said. "Once a nearly impenetrable fortress, Hogwarts has opened its doors to us. No longer shall our youth be corrupted by Albus Dumbledore and his perversion toward mudbloods."

Several people down the table hissed at the word, Bella loudest of all. Draco felt increasingly ill.

"We have young Draco to thank for this opportunity, of course," Voldemort said, and all eyes landed on the blond, who remained expressionless. "It is because of your hard work, Draco, that we will finally see Albus Dumbledore dead."

The table erupted in cheers, though Draco didn't react along with them. By the looks of it, his mother and Theo didn't think much of this plan either.

Voldemort held up a spindly, skeletal hand, and a hush fell over the room. He didn't seem put-off by the Death Eaters' outburst, however. A devilish smile even tugged at Voldemort's fanged mouth.

"Your duty is not over yet, however." He still addressed Draco directly, and Draco stared resolutely at Voldemort's chin.

 _Not his eyes_ , he thought. If he looked into the Dark Lord's eyes, he wouldn't stand a chance at occlumency. He wasn't entirely sure he would either way, but anything might help him at this point.

"As a tribute to your success, I give you the _honor_ of killing Albus Dumbledore."

Draco felt Bella stiffen at his side; no doubt she wanted to receive that honor, and had hoped Voldemort would overlook that he'd previously tasked Draco with it as well.

"And where is he currently, Severus?" Voldemort asked.

Snape, who sat farther down the table, answered with careful control. "He is away from the castle, my Lord. Where he went, he did not say, only that he should return later this evening."

Voldemort smiled. "Well then… Shall we begin?"

…

Dinner had come to a close by the time Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy left their classroom. They had resolved to tell Professor McGonagall about their suspicion - not about Draco's, Blaise's, or Theo's involvement with it, but that they'd found a way into the castle and thought the Death Eaters would pursue it. Blaise seemed the most reluctant. He knew that McGonagall wouldn't take them seriously unless she had all the details, and he also knew that if they disabled the vanishing cabinet before Voldemort could use it, Draco would pay dearly. It looked like a lose-lose situation to him.

"Should we check the staff room?" Pansy asked.

"No, she'll be in her office - hang on." Hermione had paused and was now rummaging through her pocket. "I just remembered…"

She produced a single galleon, then her wand.

"Is this really the time?" Blaise demanded.

"Yes, if we'd like reinforcements," Hermione replied calmly. She set the tip of her wand against the coin and thought, quite firmly: _be prepared, there might be trouble_. The words formed on the surface of the coin. Hermione knew that, all across the school, any member of Dumbledore's Army who still kept their coin - and many of them did - would feel their pocket heat up once the message transmitted.

"Okay, let's go," she said. When they set off again, Hermione caught a glint of recognition in Pansy's eye. Since she'd been the one to catch Marietta Edgecomb last year, she'd probably been the only one on the Inquisitorial Squad to ever see a D.A. coin for herself. Hermione was still bitter about that.

The three set off through the castle at a run, Blaise purposely slowing himself so the girls could keep up. Neither of them had the advantage of long legs, and up until this point he'd never put much thought into that. Now it seemed amazingly burdensome.

They passed by other students in the corridors, all of whom stopped to stare at the odd trio. Since it was after dinner, no one needed to run to catch their classes - so why the rush? Thankfully the other students got well out of their way.

After running what seemed like a mile, Blaise skidded to a stop outside of McGonagall's office door. Hermione and Pansy, just as breathless as he was, leaned against the wall as he knocked.

A moment later, the door sprang open. Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to greet her visitors, but she paused at the sight of them; not only were they a combination of students she wouldn't expect, but they each looked rather disheveled as well.

"Professor," Hermione panted, "We need to speak with you. It's urgent."

McGonagall, who still looked confused, opened her door farther and admitted the students.

"Miss Granger, Miss Parkinson, and Mr. Zabini," she noted, shutting the door behind them. "What seems to be the problem? I assume there is one, or else you wouldn't be found in each other's company."

"I wouldn't, at least," Pansy muttered. She glared at Blaise and Hermione in turn.

Hermione paid her no mind. "Professor, we think there's going to be an attack on Hogwarts. Dumbledore's gone - and so is Harry - and there's a way into the castle the Death Eaters can use -"

"I beg your pardon?" McGongall asked, standing straighter. "A way into the school? What are you talking about?"

"It's the vanishing cabinet," Blaise said. "The one Montague got stuck in last year. It links with a cabinet in Borgin and Burke's."

McGonagall blinked, glancing between Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy. It took her a moment to gather herself.

"That cabinet is broken," she said calmly. "After the incident with Mr. Montague, it was damaged beyond repair. I can assure you -"

"It's been mended," Hermione cut in. "Someone's fixed it, and now there's a link."

"That's simply not possible, Ms. Granger," McGonagall insisted. "It would be highly advanced magic, and it would take _months_ -"

"It did." Blaise clenched his teeth. He'd known it would come to this. "It's taken all year, but I've finally managed it. It's done."

The others stared at him, surprised. McGonagall carefully scrutinized him through her spectacles.

"Mr. Zabini," she said slowly, "Please explain yourself."

"I didn't realize it was a link, Professor," he said. "It was advanced magic, like you said. I just wanted to prove I could do it. The others knew about it. Someone must've realized what it could be used for."

"And you believe that this attack is imminent?" McGonagall shook her head. "Clearly I will need to see this cabinet tonight and have it properly dealt with, but that doesn't mean -"

"Professor," Pansy said quietly. While the others had gotten wrapped up in the conversation, she had drifted toward the nearest window. She raised a perfectly-manicured hand and pointed out at the sky.

There, glowing against the charcoal-gray clouds, was the Dark Mark.

…

Draco climbed through the cabinet, stepping out into the too-familiar Room of Requirement, and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Others had gone through before him, and by now they could be anywhere in the castle. Voldemort hadn't given any explicit instructions not to harm the students, and it seemed that some of his followers - Fenrir Greyback included - planned to take advantage of such an oversight.

He heard his Aunt Bella laughing up ahead. His hands shook.

 _This is bad,_ he thought. _This is really bloody bad_.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, and sorry for the wait! Things got pretty rough in the last week. I do still have a lot of free time in the next day or two, so maybe I can bust out another chapter. I'd really like to, considering all that we have to look forward to. ;) Any hopes or guesses as to how this will play out differently?

Your reviews have been so lovely to read. Thank you for your feedback. I just went through and revised EVERYTHING, so hopefully I got most of the kinks out and it all reads smoothly now.

Love you all.

Penny


	33. - Into That Good Night

_A/N: From here on out, we've majorly diverged from canon. Everything's changed. Prepare yourselves._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: ...Into That Good Night**

Professor McGonagall hesitated only a split-second before issuing commands to her prefects. While the sight of the Dark Mark in the sky nearly made her heart stop, she'd never been one to fail under pressure. When she spoke, it was cool and controlled.

"Most students will be in their common rooms at this hour," she said, glancing at the clock on her desk, "But not all of them. I am afraid your suspicions were correct - we must act quickly."

"We are under attack!" A painting on the wall, in which Sir Cadogan had just interrupted a pair of previously-peaceful monks, shouted. "Just now, a band of cloaked scallywags appeared in the castle! One fiend turned his wand upon my portrait - but not before I managed to escape! Alas, I should run through that roguish swine with my blade -" He punctuated each word with a slash of his sword, practically knocking himself off of his feet from the momentum.

"Where?" McGonagall asked. "Where did they go, Cadogan?"

"Last I witnessed, they approached the stairs - the blasted miscreants -"

"How many?"

"A dozen, at least!"

McGonagall turned to another portrait, which bore a severe-looking gentleman with flowing grey hair. He clutched a lute and frowned at Cadogan, who continued to wave his sword about and spew profanities from across the room.

"Alert the Minister," McGonagall said. "Hogwarts is under attack." The gentleman gave a slow bow, then stepped out of his portrait.

She returned her focus to Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy, and noted that they each had their wands drawn.

"I cannot let you come with me," she said gravely, "The portraits will have alerted the common rooms by now. I need to trust that you won't go running off -"

"We'll stay," Hermione said.

"Absolutely," Blaise agreed. Pansy nodded, but she didn't look happy; her face had drained of color entirely.

McGonagall nodded. "Be safe, all of you. There are Aurors in the castle tonight - they will handle the Death-Eaters." She finished with a hard stare at Hermione.

Without a pause McGonagall pulled open her office door, and the older woman fled down the empty corridor. Though Hermione expected to hear shouts and the echo of spells clashing, it was eerily quiet. After waiting a beat she stepped through and ran in the opposite direction, wand held out.

" _Wait!_ " Blaise hissed, but Pansy wrenched him back.

"Let her go," Pansy said. "She's going to get herself _killed_ -"

Blaise yanked himself free of Pansy's grip, and when he looked up again, Hermione had already disappeared around the corner. McGonagall was gone as well. His pulse raced, and he glanced in either direction, trying to think of what to do.

"We should stay here," Pansy said, pulling on his cloak again.

"We can't just ignore this," Blaise replied. "We're prefects! We need to go - to help Draco and Theo -"

"Help them _how?_ " Pansy whined. "Help the Death Eaters? We can't help them - and we can't fight them, either -"

" _You_ stay then," Blaise said. "I'm going to find my _friend_." He threw himself into the corridor, and before Pansy could react he'd slammed the door shut behind himself. Heart pounding in his ears, Blaise started off after Hermione. Hopefully she hadn't run into trouble.

…

Hermione skidded to a halt outside the Gryffindor common room, relieved that the Fat Lady hadn't fled like she had their third year. She gave the password and leaped into the common room.

"Hermione!" Ginny, who'd been huddled together with Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus, broke away to throw her arms around her friend. "We got your message earlier, so we were ready when we saw -"

"There's no time," Hermione said. She passed the group and sprinted up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, ignoring her friends' worried voices as they called after her.

It took only a moment to spot Harry's trunk, and shortly after that Hermione had the Marauder's Map in hand. She clutched it with shaking fingers.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," she said. Ink spilled onto the parchment, but not quickly enough; Hermione swore as she waited for its words to become legible. When they did, she first noticed a mass of footprints and banners gathered around the moving stairs, with names like Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback causing her breath to catch. Only a few other people occupied the corridors, she saw, and sadly they weren't all aurors. In the Death Eaters' wake, several motionless banners dotted the page.

"Oy, what are you - oh." Ron burst into the room, and upon seeing Hermione with the Marauder's Map in hand, he slowed. "Good idea, when Harry and Dumbledore get back, we'll know where they are."

 _Where are you?_ Hermione thought, searching the map ardently by now. She felt a pang of guilt. Harry hadn't even crossed her mind.

"What's Malfoy doing all the way up there?" Ron asked, pointing up near the Room of Requirement. "Maybe they left him behind, the worthless git -"

"I need to go," Hermione said. She shoved the map into Ron's hands. "You watch for Harry."

"Wait - Hermione!"

Once again, she ignored him, and she ignored her other friends when she passed them in the common room as well. Hermione flung herself through the portrait-hole and took off at a dead sprint.

 _Please be okay_ , she thought. _Don't do anything stupid - just be okay -_

Turning the corridor, Hermione ran head-long into Blaise, and she ricocheted off of him before catching herself against the wall.

"Where are you _going?_ " he demanded. "I nearly hexed you!"

"He's at the Room of Requirement," she said. "I'm going after him. Are you coming or not?"

"How do you know where he is?"

"I just _know_ ," Hermione snapped. Deciding not to wait on Blaise, she brushed past him and started running again. The Room of Requirement was only a few corridors away, and if she hurried, she could catch Draco before he left it.

Fortunately, Blaise didn't argue - not that Hermione expected him to. He fell into step beside her, brandishing his wand in case they ran into anyone else. They skidded around one corner, and then the next, and then the door was in sight.

A tall blond sixth year stood in the corridor, but it wasn't the blond Hermione had hoped to find. Nott, with his broad shoulders and strong jaw, aimed his wand at the newcomers. He wasn't wearing a mask or cloak like the other Death Eaters, but had remained in his school uniform; Hermione at once spotted his rolled-up sleeves, and the Dark Mark they revealed on his left forearm.

Blaise lowered his wand at once, then reached out to stop Hermione. She kept her wand raised, as did Nott.

"Theo," Blaise said, his voice nonchalant. "Is Draco with you? We came to help." He didn't say _what_ they'd help with, Hermione noticed.

Theo barked a laugh. "Helping the cause? I doubt it. You I might believe, but not _her_." He wasn't speaking coldly, like Hermione expected. It occurred to her that they'd been friends before all of this - not good friends like Blaise and Draco, though. That much was obvious.

"I'm here to help Draco," Hermione said. "Where'd he go, Nott?"

"Where'd you leave Pansy?" Theo asked Blaise, paying Hermione no mind.

"McGonagall's office," Blaise answered. "She's safe. If you even care."

"Of course I _care_ ," Theo said. He seemed genuinely affronted. "I wouldn't _be_ here if I didn't care. Things are about to get messy, Blaise. It's not my fault you picked the wrong side."

"You now, I thought you were actually good for her." Blaise raised his wand again, slowly, and aimed it at Theo's chest. "I didn't want to believe you'd gotten mixed-up in this too. Turns out you're no better than McLaggen. She'd be better off without you."

"Will you just tell us where he went?" Hermione asked. "If you haven't noticed, it's two-against-one, Nott -"

"Shut up, mudblood," Nott spat. "Draco's gone to finish some business. He doesn't need you getting in the way."

"Did he follow the others?" Hermione asked.

Almost surprisingly, Theo's lip curled in disgust. "Greyback's left a trail of breadcrumbs you can't miss, I imagine." He narrowed his eyes at Blaise. "And don't compare me to that scum. I'll be able to keep her safe -"

But Blaise, who apparently had heard enough, shot a powerful curse toward Theo's chest. Theo swore, knocked back a few feet, but he'd managed to put up a shield in time.

"I don't want to fight you, Blaise," he snarled, "But I'll do it if I have to."

"Get out of here, Hermione," Blaise said. His eyes never left Theo, who glowered in return.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Nott had already whirled a hex in Blaise's direction; she threw up a shield wordlessly, which helped a great deal considering that Blaise hadn't defended himself at all. Instead he'd shoved her away with his free arm.

" _Go_ , Hermione," he said. "I won't tell you again. _Diffindo!_ "

She didn't wait to see the results of Blaise's attack - it wouldn't be pretty if it worked - and instead spun on her heel, retreating down the corridor once again.

…

Draco spotted the gaggle of Death Eaters down below, and he drew in a deep breath. It seemed that most of Hogwarts' students had disappeared into their common rooms, but not all made it in time. So much became obvious when Draco found several bodies - a pair of Ravenclaws he hadn't known - and a trail of blood leading away from them. He didn't bother checking for pulses. The injuries were too great.

"Where will he come in, Severus?" Bella asked, her voice shrill with excitement. "We'll do away with Dumbledore, and then we'll bring Potter back with us -"

"I'm not sure," Snape replied. His voice carried, and for a brief moment, Draco thought he'd glanced up at him. "One can only enter from outside the castle, however."

There was an exclamation, and several bright flashes of color. The Death Eaters scattered, raising their wands, while several new faces entered the fray. Draco recognized Kingsley Shacklebolt from the Ministry, but the pink-haired witch at his side looked only vaguely familiar. Professor Lupin jumped in behind them, flinging curses at the Death Eaters as he did so.

 _What do I do?_ he thought.

Hermione's face flashed through Draco's mind, but he shook it away. As much as his instincts told him to worry about her, he had to ignore them for now. He needed to get to Dumbledore before the aurors did.

 _And kill him?_

That, Draco couldn't answer.

…

Nott having blocked off the Room of Requirement, and the stairwell down the corridor from it, Hermione found herself backtracking toward the moving stairs. On the way she passed the Fat Lady again - along with someone else.

"Where'd you go?" Ron demanded. "There's a bloody _war_ going on!"

"I need that," Hermione said, snatching the Marauder's Map out of his hands. He hadn't deactivated it yet.

"Hermione, _slow down_. You can't just go running off like that -"

"He's in trouble, Ron," she said, feeling the fear sink in. "I need to help him, I wouldn't expect you to understand -"

"Is this about Zabini?" Ron spat.

Hermione shook her head anxiously, still scanning the map.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "I'm going with you. Ginny already ran off with Dean and Seamus anyway, and Neville went after them -"

"Don't come with me," Hermione warned. "Look, the fighting's all centered around the stairwell and entrance hall. I'm going to go around it, I'll be just fine."

"Going around it, to get to the _dungeons_ ," Ron said. "Look, we know about Zabini, alright? You don't have to go chasing after him on your - er - what's that?" He pointed toward the map, just outside the Room of Requirement. Two little banners zig-zagged wildly about the corridor there. "See, he's not even _in_ the dungeons -"

" _Ronald_." Hermione ripped the map away. "I'm _not_ going after Blaise. Go find Ginny, and help _her_. As soon as I see Harry on the map, I'll let you know."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione waved her wand at him.

" _Aresto momentum_." As soon as the spell hit, Ron's movements slowed. It took a full second before the look of surprise entered his eyes, and the rest of his expression hadn't even changed yet. Hermione gave him a sincerely apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'll uncharm you once I've turned the corner. You - you gave me no choice."

Then, without a second glance, Hermione left once more.

…

Draco pushed back from the balcony. Snape's hint wasn't extremely helpful, since he couldn't possibly monitor the entire outdoors for Dumbledore's appearance. Especially not in the dark. Down below the sounds of duelling carried and flashes of color lit up the stairwell. Lupin had cornered Greg's father on a moving staircase, and they worked their way onto the third-floor landing. The other aurors, it seemed, had managed to contain their adversaries to the entrance hall.

"I can hear them them up ahead -"

"How many, d'you think?"

Draco heard new voices this time, voices that approached the landing he stood on. He retreated back a few steps and cast a disillusionment charm on himself.

Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom arrived at the railing, and they peered carefully down over the scene. After surveying the melee they cast dark looks at one another; within seconds they'd shuffled onto the staircase, which immediately began to move.

Draco let out his breath. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it.

Leaving the charm in place - just in case - he stepped back out onto the landing. Quite regrettably, he still had no plan of action. The only thing he knew was that he wouldn't be able to reach the grounds from here, not with the fighting down below. Other staircases existed, but he'd spend twenty minutes sprinting about the castle in order to reach them. So how could he get outside?

Another set of footsteps rang through the corridor, and he went still again.

Hermione had rounded the corner, and she stared resolutely at a large, folded piece of parchment. Her hands shook, Draco could tell as much even from far away. She slowed to a stop, then looked up expectantly, causing Draco's heart to leap in his chest.

Her eyes narrowed. She looked back at the parchment, then up again.

"Draco?" she said quietly.

 _How the hell does she know?_ he thought, utterly bewildered. As silently as possible, he backed his way past the landing, farther down the corridor…

Hermione moved with him, a decidedly confused expression on her face.

"I _know_ you're here," she insisted. "Please, let me help. There has to be a way out."

Her words hit like bricks. There was no way out. Draco had stood before Voldemort himself not even an hour ago, and he knew that at that moment, his mother was still at the manor. With _him_. If Draco didn't finish this, if he didn't kill Dumbledore that night, then he'd as good as killed his own mother.

Steeling himself over, Draco peered more curiously at the parchment Hermione held. Was that a map? Why would she need a map?

" _Hominum revelio_ ," she said.

Draco threw up a shield nonverbally. Hermione huffed in frustration.

He stepped closer, noting that pieces of Hermione's map actually moved about… Were those _names?_

Draco froze.

"I don't know why you're hiding yourself," Hermione said, "But I _know_ you're here, the map says so, and the _map doesn't lie_ -"

There was a great crash from the stairwell, and Draco blocked his eyes against the flash of light which accompanied it. Hermione hadn't been so quick on the draw. She blinked rapidly, rubbing at her eyes, and Draco took that opportunity to step forward and look at this map of hers.

It showed only the topmost floors of the castle, the way she had it folded up. There, right in the middle, were two little banners that read Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. His eyes flitted across the surface. If this really showed everyone, then -

 _Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter_.

They were on the Astronomy Tower.

Wishing dearly that he could stay - but knowing that would only mean endangering Hermione further - Draco pulled the map out of her hands. He ignored her shocked gasp, and he ignored the hurt look which filled her eyes just afterward. In fact, Draco heard her voice as he began running. He didn't care to hear what she had to say.

…

" _Locomotor mortis!"_

" _Protego!"_

" _Reducto!"_

Theo sidestepped Blaise's last attack. He'd spoken the truth when he'd said he didn't want to fight; not only was Blaise Zabini a formidable opponent, but Theo had always rather liked him. He'd thought there was hope for the bloke, too. It seemed that Draco wasn't the only Slytherin pining after mudbloods these days, unfortunately.

"She'll be upset with us for fighting, you know," Theo said. He deflected a nonverbal curse sent by Blaise. Both panted from the exertion of their duel.

"I think she'll get over it," Blaise said. " _Confringo!_ "

" _Protego!_ " Theo glared back. "That wasn't nice."

They paused in their fight, staring daggers at one another, each ready to defend against the next attack. Blaise smirked.

"I'm surprised you haven't thrown out any Unforgiveables yet," he said. "Isn't that the Death Eater style?"

"I'm not afraid to use them," Theo replied. "I think you're forgetting who I am, Zabini. I'm not a different person than I was before."

"Yeah, well, _before_ you didn't show off your Dark Mark," Blaise said. "Forgive me for assuming the worst." He finished by shooting off a strong, well-aimed conjunctivitis curse. Theo hadn't seen it coming; the spell hit him squarely in the face, and he staggered backward with a furious yelp.

" _Avada kedavra!_ " he screamed, whipping his wand fiercely.

Blaise hurled himself aside.

All he saw was green.

…

"Draco - no, you still have a chance!"

Hermione shook away her surprise. She couldn't see Draco himself, but she still caught a glimpse of the map as it fled down the corridor.

 _You're not getting away that easily_ , she thought.

She knew where he needed to be. She'd seen Harry and Dumbledore appear on the Astronomy Tower. If only she'd managed to head Draco off... At this rate he'd reach the tower and then either he or Harry would kill the other out of sheer spite. But more than that, what would Dumbledore do?

Thinking quickly, Hermione took the fastest route to the tower. She still wasn't certain she'd get there in time, at least not before Draco. He'd gotten a head start, after all -

"I knew I smelled fresh meat."

Hermione's feet slid on the flagstone floor. She gripped her wand so tightly it would break, but by some miracle it did not, and she aimed it directly at the hulking figure which now blocked her way. A name cropped up in the back of her head, and she had little doubt over it.

"Fenrir Greyback," she said, brandishing the knowledge like it would somehow help her. Her voice cracked nervously.

Greyback, who stood tall and broad with long matted hair, picked at his yellow teeth with his tumbnail. He grinned, flexing beneath his tattered clothing.

"Thought I'd find myself a little snack," he said, his voice gravelly. "Just nearly offed the Malfoy kid - but now I'm glad I waited."

Hermione ground her teeth together. Greyback wasn't holding a wand. Maybe he didn't think she'd actually use hers.

" _Locomotor mortis!_ " she hissed.

Out of nowhere, the spell smashed into a shield. Hermione gasped, trying to make sense of it. Greyback grinned even wider.

 _Did he just do wandless magic?_

"Think I'm that stupid, lovely?" he asked. He stepped forward. She stepped back.

 _Petrificus totalis!_ Hermione thought, barely twitching her wand this time. It worked; Greyback went completely rigid, a mix of shock and anger filling his eyes. He tipped backward and hit the floor with a heavy _thump_.

"That's what happens when you get cocky," she spat, though she still gave him a wide berth as she passed.

Shaking off the adrenaline from that last encounter, Hermione continued on her way. If she didn't run into any more trouble, she might reach the Astronomy Tower before something bad happened…

Voices echoed up the corridor, jeering and cackling. Hermione spared a glance back the way she'd come. It seemed the Death Eaters had begun to advance.

…

Draco burst out onto the Astronomy Tower, gripping his wand in one hand and the Marauder's Map in the other. He spun about, searching for an adversary to defend against. To his surprise no attack came.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he heard a familiar voice coming from the shadows.

"Ah, Draco. I had wondered when you'd finally arrive."

Draco spun instinctively, shouting " _Expelliarmus!_ " as he went. A wand went flying through the air, and it clattered onto the ground at Draco's feet. He looked up.

Dumbledore leaned against the railing, and Draco paused, taking in the sight. The old man didn't seem right - something was wrong. He clutched his abdomen as though he'd been injured.

"Where's Potter?" Draco asked, noticing that two broomsticks lay nearby.

"Harry has left us, I'm afraid," Dumbledore answered weakly. "It would seem that he couldn't resist joining the fight."

Draco, not fully believing this, glanced back at the map. Potter's name still resided on the Astronomy Tower.

"The map doesn't lie," he said, repeating Hermione's words from earlier. "Where is he?"

"He won't be bothering us. After all, this is between you and me, is it not?"

"Tell me where he is, or I'll _kill_ you," Draco said, jabbing his wand out for effect.

Dumbledore just shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think you will."

A terror came over Draco; there he stood, with Dumbledore clearly helpless, and he couldn't say the words. He couldn't _mean_ the words. With Dumbledore dead, who would finally stop Lord Voldemort?

 _Not Potter_ , he thought. No one would be able to stop him. Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort feared… So how could Draco possibly kill him?

His limbs began to shake. His eyes burned.

 _I can't do it._

The door burst open, and Draco shot an immediate _expelliarmus_ its way with a flash of crimson light. It clashed against a shield. Draco's hand went up, and he had the next attack on his lips when he recognized her - Hermione, with her wild hair and determined golden eyes. He fumbled with his wand, nearly dropping it.

"Hermione?" he said weakly.

"Draco, don't!" she said, throwing up another shield. Draco realized that she'd thought he would attack again. His mouth went dry.

Hermione lowered her hands, and her eyes were wide with fear. She glanced between Draco and Dumbledore, gasping when she took in the state of her Headmaster.

"They're on their way up here," she said. " _Please_ , if we go now -"

"There's nowhere to go _,_ " Draco hissed. "Why are you here? You're going to get hurt again -"

"No one needs to get hurt!" Hermione stepped toward him, pleading.

The wind picked up, howling across the tower, and with it the door flew open once more. Death Eaters spilled onto the tower, among them Severus Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the lumpy-faced Amycus Carrow, who had a wand aimed under Hermione's chin before she could react. Bella squealed with fervor, pointing her wand at Dumbledore.

Another howl - this time not the wind - announced the arrival of a very conscious, very mobile Fenrir Greyback. His wolfish eyes landed on Hermione, who went rigid.

"That's what happens," he growled, "When you get _cocky_."

"Enough with the mudblood!" Bella said. " _Finish him_ , Draco!"

Draco didn't move. He stared, his jaw clenched in rage, at Carrow. His fist tightened around his wand.

"Draco," Snape said warningly.

"I knew it," Carrow said through a greasy smile. "Doesn't have it in 'im, that one."

" _Kill_ him, Draco!" Bella shrieked, her face going red. If it weren't for the Dark Lord's specific command, she'd already have cast the spell herself.

Draco's eyes didn't leave Carrow, and when he raised his wand, it wasn't toward Dumbledore at all. The Death Eaters fell silent. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen a look of disappointment cross the Headmaster's face.

"Get your _bloody_ hands off of her," Draco said stonily. Hermione shook her head at him, trying to tell him off, but he didn't care.

"What's this?" Greyback said, his yellowy gaze flitting back and forth between the two. "It looks like Malfoy's got himself a little _girlfriend_."

Carrow didn't seem as amused by this; he stared at the tip of Draco's wand, eyes crossed slightly.

" _Enough of this!_ " Bella, who looked so appalled she couldn't process what she saw, refocused on Dumbledore. "I'll kill him _myself!_ "

Then Dumbledore's voice, quiet and wavering, cut through the air. "Severus…"

He had slowly sunk against the bannister, and now looked imploringly upon his friend. He didn't seem very powerful at all now, only sad, like a man in unbearable pain. Severus's jaw twitched.

" _Avada kedavra_ ," he said. A flash of green lit up the tower; when it faded, Dumbledore's body had gone limp and tipped over the edge of the balustrade.

" _No!_ " Hermione screamed. She jumped forward, and Carrow's hand swiped out but didn't catch her in time.

Draco did. He stepped in her way and threw his arms around her, though she pushed at him and cried out, still trying to reach the railing. Still trying to save Dumbledore. Draco gripped her like a vice, refusing to let her go, knowing she'd do something stupid.

"Our work here is done," Snape said quietly. He turned, his black cloak whipping about, and led the way out of the tower, Carrow following closely at his heel. Bella hissed at Draco, her face twisting with revulsion, but she made no move to attack - the only time she'd ever spare a blood-traitor, Draco was sure. It wouldn't happen again.

"Keep that one nice and safe for me," Greyback said, digging his claw-like nails into the door. His eyes flashed toward Hermione. "I'll be back for her... Back for my _just desserts_."

With that he slammed the door shut, but his words rang louder in Draco's ears. His arms tightened around Hermione, who no longer pushed against him, but instead sobbed raucously into his chest. When he finally looked around, one of the broomsticks was gone.

So he'd done it. He'd picked a side… Or rather, the side had picked _him_. Draco thought back on every moment he'd been fought along the way, every moment when his conscious had told him what to do, and he'd known what was right. He just couldn't make the choice _himself_ , as it turned out. The realization washed over him and left a hollow feeling in its wake.

But being right didn't mean being _safe_ , not these days. Draco wouldn't be safe from here on out - and neither would Hermione. Everything was about to change...

And it would change more than he knew.

* * *

 **A/N:** Alright, I busted this out really quickly, so please tell me if it was rough. I'll need to reread it in a few days and see if it flows the way I want it to.

As a note, I was asked if the aurors were patrolling in my story (as they were in HBP) and they were not. McGonagall mentions here that they were there on this night specifically. I'll clear that up more soon. Basically Dumbledore was thinking ahead and didn't want to leave the castle unattended.

Thank you for your reviews on the previous chapter, I appreciate them as always. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one as well - and I expect some of you are _dying_ to chew me out about Blaise. I wonder how that will all play out, hmm?

I'm looking forward to the rest of this story now. I'm still working out how closely it'll play to canon (obviously this took a drastic detour, with the character deaths and Draco switching sides) but I don't plan on re-imagining things entirely. We'll see where it ends up.

Much love,

Penny


	34. The End of Things

_A/N: This chapter includes some gore. Read at your own discretion._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: The End of Things**

Draco and Hermione stood out on the Astronomy Tower for a few more minutes, and during that time Hermione's crying and coughing slowed. As for Draco, he felt all emotion leave his body. No more fear, no more frustration. To feel nothing was a relief.

"You didn't stop," he said, propping his chin on Hermione's head. "There were so many times you could have turned back, but you didn't."

"Of course not," she said. "I didn't want you to be alone."

"And you knew, then. Everyone knew I couldn't do it."

"Honestly… I had no idea what you'd do."

Draco pulled back and looked Hermione hard in the face. "You really thought I might do him in tonight," he realized. "You thought that, and you came anyway… Why?"

"Because I knew you didn't _want_ to do it," Hermione said. "I thought… I thought if I could just convince you that we'd keep you safe… If you actually believed that, then you wouldn't…" Her eyes trailed past Draco, and she stared at the balustrade.

Draco clenched his jaw. Everything had gone to shit, and it was his fault.

"What did Greyback mean?" he asked quietly. "What he said about 'just desserts?'"

Hermione shuddered. "We had a run-in before I got here. I immobilized him, but even then - it almost didn't work. I didn't realize he could perform wandless magic." She left out the part where she taunted him afterward. It had been so childish.

 _That's what happens when you get cocky._

Draco pulled her back in, wrapping his arms securely around Hermione's small frame. His movements felt stiff this time.

"He'll come back for you," he said. "Has too much pride, that one -"

"Yes, well, the goal is that he won't find me again," Hermione leaned her head against Draco's chest. Despite the clipped tone to her voice, she appreciated his worry.

The reality of the situation began to sink in; Dumbledore was dead, and Snape had killed him. Draco had failed his mission for Voldemort, and he'd outright defied the Death Eaters instead. They'd have his head for that.

So what came next? How the hell was he supposed to move forward?

"We should go," Hermione said. She pulled back and wiped her eyes. "The Order can help you. We need to get you out. Blaise too." She paused, then spoke with a hint of annoyance. "And probably Pansy."

"Bloody hell, you're right," Draco said, leading the way down the stairs. "Theo's a Death Eater now."

That new understanding brought a flurry of questions to mind: did Theo go after Pansy tonight? If he did, what had she decided to do? And where was Blaise?

"The Order," Draco repeated, ignoring his other worries, "You mean the Order of the Phoenix, don't you?"

Hermione nodded. It dawned on her that the Order would look a lot different now without Dumbledore as their leader.

She grasped Draco's hand, and they each held their wands up as they strode through the corridors. The castle felt eerie and empty, and despite having just seen a dozen Death Eaters wreaking havoc upon it, Hermione knew they'd left already. In some inexplicable way she could feel it.

"Where's the map?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh, er - hang on -" Draco patted his cloak. He'd stuffed it into his pocket earlier. Pulling it out now, he handed it to Hermione without meeting her eyes. "Sorry about that. I didn't want you to catch me."

Hermione nodded, but turned her attention to the Marauder's Map. The last she'd seen, Blaise was by the Room of Requirement, and Pansy had been left in McGonagall's office. It would be a comfort to see Blaise at least, after witnessing the beginning of his duel with Nott. It hadn't looked like it would end well.

She spotted a small, motionless banner on the map, just beside the Room of Requirement.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said, picking up her pace. Draco kept at her side easily.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's Blaise. He's probably fine, really -"

They rounded a corner, still having seen no signs of life within the castle. Even the portraits stood empty. Dumbledore's body had most likely been found by now.

Arriving at the corridor outside the Come-And-Go room, Hermione skidded to a halt. Draco ran into her, but he managed to keep them both upright. His heart seized in his chest.

Laying in a crumpled heap against the wall, Blaise sat still and soaked in blood. Jagged gashes marred his face and arms, and judging by the pooling crimson on his shirt, they covered the rest of his body as well.

"Blaise?" Draco said, dropping to his knees beside his friend. "Mate, wake up."

Hermione, heart pounding erratically, ran through spells in her head. She had to know one, just the right one… There had to be _something._

" _Blaise_ ," Draco demanded. He grabbed a fistful of Blaise's shirt and shook him desperately. "Get the _fuck_ up - don't do this -"

"Check his pulse, Draco," Hermione said quietly.

Draco pressed two fingers under Blaise's jaw; his body completely slack, Blaise slid farther down the wall.

"I can't tell, I can't find it," Draco said, his voice rising.

Hermione knelt on Blaise's other side, and she took up one of his blood-soaked hands in her own. She pressed a finger to his wrist.

One long minute ticked by. Draco's breathing grew shallow.

"I - I think it's there," Hermione said. "It's hard to tell - we need to get him to the Hospital Wing." She got to her feet and aimed her wand at Blaise's limp body, carefully levitating him off of the ground. His blood had mostly coagulated by now, but a trail of errant drips followed him as they moved along.

It was the longest walk of Draco's life. He strode along on Blaise's other side, not sure exactly how to help, how to make this better. They made it down a few flights of stairs, Draco standing below his friend just in case, but Hermione never faltered. Blaise floated smoothly through the air every foot of the way.

At some point Draco recognized Blaise's injuries, simply because he could remember receiving them himself. Someone had thrown that bloody _sectumsempra_ curse at Blaise. It chilled him to the core to think that Blaise had been laying there with those wounds like that, spilling litres of blood, probably in incredible pain... Left for dead.

When they made it to the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey gasped, hurrying over to them. Most of the cots were taken up. A few had sheets draped gravely over their occupants.

"This way - hurry," the Medi-Witch instructed them. Amidst the crowded infirmary, eyes followed them as they went by.

She motioned to an empty bed before rushing over to a potions cabinet, and Hermione laid Blaise gently upon it. He looked barely recognizable. Once she was done, Hermione swallowed hard, glancing down at her own blood-covered hands.

Madame Pomfrey passed her wand over Blaise's body, her eyes intent. For the most part it looked like his injuries surpassed those of anyone else present.

"Alive, but not by much," she said. She handed a bottle over to Hermione, then flicked her wand. Blaise's shirt vanished, revealing wounds just as terrible as they'd imagined. "Dittany, dear. It'll take us both to get him healed in time."

Both witches uncapped their bottles and set to work, using infuriatingly-small droppers to apply the potion to his torso. Draco paced nearby, his eyes not leaving Blaise, and in a few moments he could tell a slight difference. While blood still coated Blaise's skin, most of the obvious gashes had closed up.

Once they finished on his abdomen, Pomfrey set to work on Blaise's face and Hermione took up one of his arms. After that, Pomfrey carefully levitated him and set him down on his stomach; Hermione sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. More blood. More wounds.

"You've done enough, Ms. Granger," Madame Pomfrey said. She looked pointedly to Draco. "If you would, Mr. Malfoy, then I can get a Blood-Replenishing Potion ready for him. He'll need it immediately."

Draco nodded, taking Hermione's bottle in hand. He repeated the same motions that she'd done, dropping a bit of potion onto a lesion, getting a bit more in the dropper, moving on to another. It was tedious, but up close he could see the improvement more clearly. The dittany worked within seconds.

Pomfrey returned with a new phial in hand, and she waved her wand over Blaise. The blood on his skin wiped cleanly away, leaving a multitude of criss-crossing scars in its wake. She turned him back over and tipped the potion into his mouth.

"Ms. Granger, I'll need you to step aside. This next bit will require privacy." Madame Pomfrey flicked her wand at the partition, which sprang into place and blocked Blaise off from the rest of the wing.

Hermione shot one last glance at Blaise, his toffee-colored skin now spoiled with thick raised scars, and stepped around the curtain. Draco caught her eye, but only briefly, his attention now focused elsewhere.

Trembling violently now, she collapsed onto the nearest chair. Brown-red splotches adorned her knees and arms, and she'd unknowingly smeared blood across her jaw as well. Unsticking her wand from her fingers, Hermione cast _scourgify_ a few times on herself, then she buried her face in her hands and cried.

…

It was nearly an hour later when Professor McGonagall arrived in the Hospital Wing, and she arrived with most of the Order in tow. Some time ago Draco had taken up the chair beside Hermione, and he squeezed her hand when he saw the newcomers. McGonagall looked quite shaken.

Just behind her, Harry and Ron spotted Hermione; Ron's face lit up with shock at seeing Draco's hand in hers, but Harry didn't seem surprised. He didn't look very happy, either, but then nobody did. Kingsley Shacklebolt followed them, along with Lupin and that same pink-haired witch from before.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, her wand in hand. "Please show us your left arm."

Draco blinked, sitting up a bit straighter, but at second thought he knew it made sense. They'd need to see it in order to have proof, and then they could have him properly convicted and carted off to Azkaban. He rolled up his left sleeve, which was stained with dried blood.

Several of them gasped at seeing the Dark Mark. Harry merely looked away, while McGonagall betrayed no emotion.

"Very well… It's just as we suspected." She turned back to Shacklebolt, who gave her a curt nod. "We have received an account of your actions tonight. The Order of the Phoenix has agreed to protect you, but first we must hear your side of the story."

Draco's brow furrowed. "You mean… You're not here to take me to Azkaban?"

Hermione went rigid at his side. Apparently this possibility hadn't even crossed her mind.

"Just because he marked you doesn't mean you're a Death Eater, Draco." Lupin spoke this time, breaking away from the others and stepping forward. He looked exactly as Draco remembered him from third year - disheveled and exhausted. "In fact, your actions indicate that you had little reason to follow You-Know-Who at all." His amber eyes flickered to Hermione, not that anyone else saw.

Taking in a deep breath, Draco steeled himself over. This made standing up to the Death Eaters sound easy. He reached over and took Hermione's hand, trying to ignore the questioning look she gave him.

"They took over the Manor," he said. "I shouldn't have done the things I did - I know this is all my fault, just…"

"They're using his mother as leverage," Hermione finished for him.

There was a pause while the others considered this; overall it didn't seem like new information to anyone. The only person present who still looked dumbfounded was Ron, who stared at Hermione incredulously.

Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke next, his voice low and commanding.

"I believe we have a place for you, Draco. A safe place."

"Blaise will need to come too," Hermione added. She looked back where the partition still blocked him from view, and a pained expression crossed her face. "He was nearly killed tonight fighting Theodore Nott."

Draco froze. "Theo did that?" he asked quietly. His gaze fell to the floor. Of _course_ it had been Theo. Theo had stayed behind to guard the Room of Requirement, and where had they found Blaise's body? Draco clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to tear Theo's throat out.

"No bloody _way_ ," Ron said. "First Malfoy, now Zabini too? We can't trust them."

Hermione shot him a glare. "Yes we can, Ronald. Besides, I seriously doubt the Order will let either of them stay without swearing an oath first. Right, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, Ms. Granger. You will all need to swear oaths."

"And Pansy?" Draco asked. "He might come back for her."

The group fell silent again, this time more strained than before. No one seemed to want to speak up. Finally Lupin answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets first.

"There has been no sign of her, Draco," he said. "Except that the Fat Lady saw her earlier tonight… She saw her with Mr. Nott."

"No - she wouldn't have," Draco stammered. First Blaise, now Pansy. His fault. "She didn't know he was a Death Eater, she'd never go with him once she knew -"

"You're a Death Eater, Malfoy," Ron interrupted. "She didn't seem to mind hanging around _you_."

"Because I didn't lie to her about it!" Draco hissed, standing up. "She knew I hated it, that I hate bloody _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ -"

"That's enough!" McGonagall silenced the boys with a single withering glare. Draco slowly lowered himself back into his seat. "We have plenty more to attend to this evening without you two acting like children. Mr. Malfoy, Remus will escort you to the safehouse. We will have Mr. Zabini moved as soon as Poppy allows. As for the rest of you -"

"I'm going with him," Hermione said. Though she spoke softly, everyone snapped to attention at her words.

"Hermione," Harry said, finally looking up, "We need you here."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "As Mr. Potter said, no students will be leaving the grounds tonight, aside for those under special circumstances -"

"She needs protected as much as I do," Draco said. "They know I defected because - well, because of her. Aunt Bella would've killed her tonight, but… I don't know why she didn't, actually. And Greyback's after her as well."

Hermione elbowed him sharply. "He is _not_ -"

But everyone began talking at once, all except Lupin, who went very still. Ron exclaimed something about why Greyback would be anywhere near Hermione in the first place, Harry demanded to know just what Draco meant, Kingsley spoke in hushed tones to McGonagall, and the pink-haired auror in the back swore to herself. It was enough to receive a clipped "Shh!" from Madame Pomfrey, who stood over a cot on the opposite end of the Wing.

"I'll take them both to Grimmauld Place," Lupin said, and the others went quiet again. No one wanted to argue with him, especially not when he looked as sober as he did now. "Students will be going home in just a few days as it is, right Minerva? Harry and Ron will no doubt see her then."

McGonagall assented, and the group convened just after that, both Harry and Ron lingering for a moment to catch their friend's eye. Hermione gave them a tight smile before looking away.

Lupin stepped forward, hands still in his pockets, and he waited for the others to exit before speaking.

"We'll be using the floo in the Headmaster's office," he said. "Follow me."

…

Hermione sat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, a steaming mug of tea warming her hands, and she watched as Lupin busied himself with fixing a sandwich. The dreary house didn't seem so foreign this time around, not after spending most of her summer here, but she imagined that for Draco it was an entirely different experience. He was related to Sirius Black, after all. She couldn't imagine how strange it would feel to wind up here after everything that had happened.

She'd expected Lupin to leave them and return to Hogwarts immediately, especially since Mrs. Weasley was around to welcome any newcomers, but he'd done the opposite. He'd politely asked Molly to get Draco situated - another strange experience for him, Hermione was sure - before pouring tea for two and offering food.

Lupin sat down at the table across from Hermione, sliding a plate her way.

"Eat," he instructed her. "It sounds like you had quite an adventure tonight."

Hermione gratefully accepted the meal. She'd missed out on dinner, and that had been hours ago now. Her stomach rumbled painfully.

"Thank you," she said.

Lupin stared down at his tea, not touching the sandwich in front of him. He seemed paler than usual. Hermione had always associated that complexion with the coming of the full moon, but that was still two weeks away. She chewed slowly, wondering what was on his mind.

"I had hoped," he said, still not looking up, "That what Draco said before, about Fenrir Greyback, he'd said purely as an excuse to bring you along tonight. It was your reaction that made me think differently."

Hermione swallowed.

"What happened?" Lupin set his amber eyes on her, voice low.

"Honestly, I don't think there's much reason to worry," she said. "Bellatrix scared me much more. She was furious."

"That being said," Lupin pressed, "I need you to tell me exactly what happened between you and Greyback. You don't know him like I do."

"It really wasn't that bad," Hermione replied. "I ran into him in the corridor before I got to the Astronomy Tower. He didn't have a wand, so I tried to stun him, but he put up a shield - I didn't realize he could manage that. It was stupid of me to underestimate him. Then I tried a nonverbal spell and that seemed to work."

"And then?"

Hermione looked down, clearly frustrated with herself. "It was childish of me, but I said something when I left - something about getting what he deserved. Then he showed up on the Tower with Snape and Bellatrix and someone else - but it's not like he came at me or anything, he just tried to scare me when he left. It didn't work, Professor. I'm not afraid of him."

Lupin sighed. "Maybe you should be, Hermione." He stirred his tea, then ran a hand through his sandy hair. He leaned back in his chair. "Part of me is relieved, as it doesn't sound like he marked you in particular. That being said, Greyback isn't one to take defeat lightly. Especially defeat at the hand of a young girl." He cast her a wry smile. "I'm impressed. Not many students your age could cast a nonverbal spell under that kind of pressure."

Hermione shook her head. "Thank Harry and the D.A. for that."

They took a moment to sip at their tea, Hermione's sandwich resting half-eaten on her plate. Lupin still hadn't touched his.

"Professor," she said quietly, "What do you mean, he might have 'marked' me?"

Lupin drew in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair again. Lycanthropy was always a tender subject for him, and discussing the werewolf who'd turned him made it even worse. Hermione knew that asking was a risk, but her curiosity nudged her forward regardless.

"Greyback, and many other werewolves, have a tendency to 'mark' their prey," he explained. "While he couldn't have turned you tonight, it wouldn't be unheard of for him to bite you anyway. He attacked a few other students tonight, I'm sure you know… But it's when you're left alive that you should worry. Werewolves are like any other animal. They like to play with their food."

"And if he _had_ bit me?"

Lupin's jaw clenched. "I doubt he would stop until he either killed you or turned you. And unfortunately, in your case, I believe he'd go for the latter option."

Hermione nodded, staring intently at her tea. She wasn't very hungry anymore.

A touch on her arm caused her to jump slightly; Lupin had reached across the table, and he gave her a warm - if not half-hearted - smile.

"You're safe here, Hermione," he told her. "The Death Eaters won't reach you as long as you're at Grimmauld Place. Like I said, I doubt Greyback would think of you with anything more than petty revenge in mind, but still… I want you to be careful. Don't leave without discussing it first. Can you promise me that?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Now Lupin's smile reached his eyes. He stood, taking his mug over to the sink and dumping it out.

"You'll need to stop calling me that eventually," he pointed out. "I'm not your Professor anymore. Remus is just fine."

"Right. Remus." Hermione pulled a slight face; it didn't feel right to call him by name.

Lupin laughed. "It'll grow on you, I'm sure. Tell Molly I went back to the school, but I imagine Dora and I will be back here sometime tomorrow."

"Oh - you're forgetting your sandwich, Profess- um, Remus."

He cast one last look over his shoulder before taking a pinch of floo powder in hand. "That wasn't for me. I believe someone else here needs it more than I do, anyway." Stepping out of the kitchen and into the parlour, Lupin disappeared with a flash of green light.

…

"Here, this is for you."

Hermione had knocked on Draco's door, and he opened it almost immediately. His room was just past the one Ron and Harry usually shared; Hermione and Ginny's was upstairs.

"Oh… Thanks." Draco accepted the plate from Hermione. "Did Mrs. Weasley make this as well?"

"No, this was Professor Lupin's doing. Mrs. Weasley will feed you plenty the rest of the time, though, I can promise you that."

Draco pulled the door open the rest of the way. He'd stripped out of his disgusting school clothes, and Hermione recognized his plaid pyjama bottoms as Ron's. He wore an orange Chudley Cannons shirt as well.

Stepping inside, Hermione took up a seat on Draco's bed. She stared at her hands, still seeing the blood she'd washed off of them hours ago. Draco sat beside her.

"He doesn't think Greyback's got it in for me personally," she said. "So that's good news."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, so that just leaves Aunt Bella. Big relief."

Hermione shot him a glare, which gave him slight pause. Draco took a tentative bite of his sandwich before continuing.

"Sorry. Not helpful, I know."

"Mhmm. Not helpful." Hermione leaned against Draco's shoulder anyway. "I'm glad Blaise is okay. Maybe he'll be here this time tomorrow."

"I wouldn't call him _okay_ ," Draco said, "But you're right. I'm glad too. I'll feel a lot better when I can talk to him again, though."

"Yeah. Me too."

Draco nibbled on the sandwich some more, the sickly feeling slowly fading away. He knew he was probably in shock after everything that had happened. Knowing that didn't necessarily change anything.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Draco asked, surprising even himself.

"Stay with you?" Hermione said.

Draco set the plate down, wiping crumbs off of his mouth. Any other time he'd be hyper-aware of himself, of the way he hadn't showered recently and probably had blood caked under his fingernails, and he'd be silently obsessing over what Hermione thought of such details. For now it didn't matter.

"I just don't want to be alone."

Hermione stared at him. She breathed slowly. Admittedly her pulse had begun to race at Draco's suggestion.

"Mrs. Weasley will have our heads in the morning," she said, giving Draco a small smile.

"Better her than someone worse," he replied, his eyebrows lifting very slightly. The hopefulness in his expression made Hermione's face feel warm. She tried to ignore it, thinking instead about how Mrs. Weasley's wrath rivalled that of most Death Eaters, not that it helped much either.

After a moment of consideration, Hermione stood. She pulled off her shoes, and then her socks, and when she set at the buttons of her shirt Draco held out a neat stack of clothing.

"She gave me extras," he said.

Hermione accepted it gratefully. Draco looked the other way while she changed, and soon her uniform sat in a pile by the door and she'd pulled on an oversized quidditch jersey along with some tattered sweatpants. They climbed into bed together, ignoring that it was too small and definitely not meant for two people, and they drew up the covers to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope the descriptions of Blaise's injuries weren't offensive, but I thought I'd include the warning just in case. War gets messy. I will probably be bumping this story up to an M rating, I think, since I foresee more dark themes in the future.

Notes:

We'll hear from Blaise in the next chapter. Also in the next chapter we'll have a major change of pace. I'll pay our dues to Dumbledore and those lost in the battle (which obviously played out more violently than in the books) but otherwise it'll be time for everyone to start moving forward. And no, Mrs. Weasley won't be pleased with our lovebirds. Not one bit.

I also really enjoyed including Lupin here. I've been reading some Remione recently ( _As the Moon Rises_ , I highly recommend it) and I fall for Remus every time I read something with him in it. No he's not here to be a romantic interest, but we can appreciate his company nonetheless.

Thank you all for your reviews on the last chapter. As always I appreciated reading them. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well - let me know what you thought of it!

Much love,

Penny


	35. Battle Scars

_A/N: I owe a MASSIVE thanks to .16 for pointing out a glaring mistake regarding Hermione's age. I have edited accordingly. I'm sorry for any confusion._

* * *

 **Chapter 34: Battle Scars**

"For the _last time_ Ronald, you are _not_ joining the Order today -"

"You let Hermione join! Did _her_ parents get a say in that?"

"That's different -"

"And you let _Malfoy_ in the bloody meetings -"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Mr. Weasley's low voice cut through the argument, "You will _not_ speak to your mother like that!"

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place, where over a dozen people milled about (half of them being red-haired Weasleys) went silent. Ron, who'd been fighting with his mother privately up until this point, went pink in the face. Fred and George, who stood at the opposite end of the table, applauded him soundlessly.

"And don't you _dare_ use me as a reason to fight," Hermione snapped, taking a seat beside a very blue-haired Tonks. She glared at Ron. "Besides, I'm technically eighteen, which makes me an adult in the muggle world too. My parents' opinion is moot."

"Only because of a ruddy time-turner," Ron grumbled. "It's not fair."

"Well I'm _sorry_."

They'd been at Grimmauld Place for two weeks now, and this wasn't the first Order meeting in which Ron and Harry weren't allowed. Though Harry didn't speak now, having opted for seething quietly in the doorway, he'd thrown his fair share of tantrums as well.

Hermione rolled her eyes at herself. She could hardly call it a tantrum when Harry, at least, really had a right to become a full Order member. All their planning revolved around him, and yet none of the adults - save for Remus and Tonks, perhaps - wanted to let him in on the meetings. It didn't help that Hermione wasn't allowed to repeat anything said at those meetings, either.

"Alright, alright," Remus said to the group, "Shall we begin?"

He cast an apologetic glance to Harry, Ron, and Ginny, who exited the room with minimal grumbling all things considered. Harry glared at Remus before shutting the door behind them.

"Here you go, dear," Mrs. Weasley said quietly, bustling around somewhere behind Hermione. The chair on Hermione's right pulled out, and Draco slid into it.

"Thanks," he said, accepting a cup of tea. Hermione noticed that his face looked a little pink. Though Mrs. Weasley had served him every meal and drink he'd had at Grimmauld Place, apparently Draco wasn't used to it yet.

Unlike Hermione, Draco wasn't part of the Order of the Phoenix - at least, not as a member. While all the adults in the room admitted that they needed his knowledge, no one seemed willing to trust him fully, despite knowing that he'd taken a magically-binding oath.

"How's Blaise?" Hermione asked quietly while everyone else found their seats.

Draco shrugged. "Same as usual."

Back at Hogwarts that would have been an excellent answer, but here it meant much less. Blaise had been moved to Grimmauld Place two days after Draco and Hermione arrived, though strictly on bed rest by Madame Pomfrey's orders, and he'd shown no signs of being his usual self since then. Physically he'd recovered entirely by now - aside from the severe scarring which covered his body - but mentally something wasn't right. He didn't talk much when Hermione and Draco visited his room, and mostly stared out the window for hours on end.

Admittedly, Hermione had been shocked to see him. She'd expected the dittany to do much more for him, like it had for Draco, and maybe leave some thin, barely-noticeable scars here or there. Blaise hadn't fared as well as his blond friend. Since it had taken him so long to receive help, the curse set in and marred nearly every inch of his previously-flawless skin.

 _Still handsome_ , Hermione thought offhandedly. She'd wondered if Blaise's depression stemmed from feeling ugly suddenly. A part of her wouldn't be surprised, even if she didn't agree with him on it.

"Alright, first order of business," Kingsley said, addressing the group with his booming voice, "Minerva, have you elected to remain at Hogwarts?"

Minerva, who sat between Bill Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody, nodded stiffly.

"As long as I have to," she said.

"Is it true that they've placed the Carrows there as well?" Mr. Weasley asked. He didn't look very hopeful for a good answer.

"Yes," Kinglsey answered solemnly. "The Carrows will be teaching under Severus's leadership. There's been no word on who else will reside in the castle."

Tension in the room rose; last week, the Ministry had appointed Snape as Headmaster, despite having proof that he'd killed Dumbledore. Minerva had seemed the most personally-affronted by this news, though she was determined to stay for her students.

At hearing the name "Carrow" Draco went rigid.

"Has the Ministry lost it _entirely?_ " he asked, utterly baffled. "You know they'll torture whoever they get their hands on."

"It would seem that way," Remus answered. Beside him, Tonks's hair flashed a shade of red which put the Weasleys' to shame, her arms crossed unhappily. "But we shouldn't be surprised. If they put Severus in charge -"

"Snape's not going to hurt anyone," Draco said. He crossed his arms as well. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Hermione laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Draco, I know you think he's innocent, but -"

"I don't think he's innocent," Draco insisted, "I _know_ he killed Dumbledore. I watched it happen, remember?" When Hermione flinched at the memory, Draco paused, then lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. I'm being an arse."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "You've made your point very clear, Draco, but there's no reason for us to believe that Snape was under an Unbreakable Vow. If he really was, then… Well, that would change things."

Draco scowled, staring into his cup of tea. He hated that no one believed him.

"Enough about Snape," barked Mad-Eye. "What about Potter?"

"Albus was confident in our previous plan," Minerva said. "I don't see why it should be changed now."

"Just because he said it doesn't make it right," Tonks said. "Sorry, Minerva."

While Minerva nodded tightly to Tonks, Hermione spoke. "Harry can't go back to the Dursley's. It's hellish, how they treat him there. And he's just as safe here."

Bill, their resident Curse-Breaker, agreed with her. He'd spent days testing their new wards, namely to make sure Severus couldn't return to Grimmauld Place, and he could attest to their secureness.

"I won't have him returning to those muggles," Mrs. Weasley added. She shook her head. "If it were up to them he'd be wasting away in some orphanage somewhere."

Kingsley watched the debate unfold, and he waited calmly as the Order members continued arguing. After a few more minutes he stood, calling everyone's attention.

"All those in favor of returning Harry to his aunt's home, raise your hands."

Mad-Eye thrust his fist into the air. Minerva, noting his confidence, faltered somewhat, but she added her vote nonetheless.

"Three in favor, counting myself," Kingsley said. "Those in favor of keeping -"

Before he finished that sentence, half of the Order raised their hands. Kingsley, a hint of a wry smirk on his face, counted them all: Hermione, Tonks, Remus, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley. Draco elected not to vote.

"Then we are settled," Kingsley said. "Nine-to-three, Harry will stay at Grimmauld Place."

There was a bit of a cheer at this news; Hermione, for her part, couldn't wait to tell Harry. He'd known that Dumbledore planned on returning him to the Dursleys, and he'd been dreading it greatly. At her side, Draco grimaced. Having both himself _and_ Harry on house-arrest didn't sound like much fun.

"Excellent," George said with a grin. "That'll make the dueling loads better."

The other Weasley boys gave each other high-fives, as though they'd won Harry for their team in gym class. Hermione fought the urge to smile. Ever since Hogwarts let out for the holiday and the rest of the Weasleys came to stay, the twins had been badgering everyone about continuing their D.A. lessons. While Grimmauld Place didn't have an ideal layout for dueling sessions, the spacious attic would do - after Hermione placed a few Undetectable Extension Charms, her current specialty.

It had initially been Fred's idea, and the adults had to relent. Minerva even suggested that someone add healing spells to the curriculum, something which their Hogwarts' schooling lacked, and Hermione jumped at the opportunity to research.

Bill cleared his throat lightly. "Well, if that's it, then I should get back to Fleur."

"Er - actually, just a moment." Remus got out of his seat. He appeared quite nervous, actually. Hermione watched him curiously, and noted how Tonks smiled reassuringly up at him.

Draco set down his tea, eyeing the pair. When Remus placed a shaking hand on Tonks's shoulder, Draco blinked, confused.

"We have an announcement," Remus said. He glanced down at Tonks, which seemed to grant him some composure. "Yesterday afternoon, Dora and I got married."

He'd opened his mouth to continue, and judging by the apologetic look on his face Remus probably expected a barrage of complaints. Instead, the room erupted in whoops and a standing ovation as everyone hurried to hug the happy couple. Tonks simply glowed, only having eyes for Remus. It was a few minutes before Remus accepted his friends' no-strings-attached merriment, and then he finally relaxed.

 _My cousin_ , Draco thought, staring at Tonks. He looked at Remus. _Werewolf_.

 _I guess anything's possible, these days._

…

Remus and Tonks's announcement gave the recently-dour household a lift in spirits, which everyone desperately needed. Good news was in short supply these days. The Battle of the Astronomy Tower (or so the _Daily Prophet_ aptly named it) had concluded with the death of five students: three fourth-years, one third-year, and one first-year. Bill Weasley, though not bitten under a full moon, had a run-in with Greyback that night which left him partially mauled. In addition to Dumbledore's murder these placed a heavy burden on those left behind. Harry felt that it was all his own fault, of course, and no one could talk him out of it.

Harry wasn't the only resident at Number Twelve who lived with guilt, though. Draco spent his afternoons and evenings in the poorly-stocked, musty library when he wasn't with Blaise or Hermione. He fell into a continuous cycle of blaming himself and hating Theo for putting Blaise in such a state. When Draco wasn't ruminating over those things, he thought about Pansy.

Had she gone with Theo of her own accord? Draco knew she loved him - or close to - and he couldn't believe that Theo was really living a double-life. The bloke obviously cared about Pansy as well, regardless of his ruddy personal beliefs.

"Want some company?"

Hermione stepped into the library, where Draco was strewn across a rather threadbare couch, and she made sure to leave the doors open. Ever since their first morning at Grimmauld Place when Mrs. Weasley woke them up to a thorough (and highly scandalized) scolding, the older witch made sure to keep an eye on the two of them wherever they went.

Handing a cup of tea to Draco, who shifted over to give her room, Hermione took a seat on the couch as well.

"Thanks," he said, though he didn't feel like drinking.

"Has there been any news?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco shook his head. "Not since father's release, no."

It was a mark of the Ministry's corruption that Lucius Malfoy, among a number of other convicted Death Eaters and criminals, had been released from Azkaban. For Draco it was a relief; his mother wouldn't be on her own. It killed him to know that she had been all this time. When Remus had pulled Draco aside to tell him the news about his father, he'd had some upsetting intel on Narcissa as well.

" _It was Bellatrix," Remus said, careful to keep his voice low. "From what we've gathered, You-Know-Who didn't give her any orders first. I'm sorry, Draco."_

" _But… She's alive?" Draco asked._

 _Remus nodded. "Still alive, yes." He watched the younger boy for a moment longer before taking his leave. The announcement that your aunt had_ crucioed _your own mother within an inch of her life took some time to sink in._

That had been last week. Since then Draco had heard no updates, but he'd vowed to personally kill Bellatrix Lestrange, preferably with his bare hands. She was no aunt of his, not anymore.

He appreciated that it had been Remus to pull him aside that day. At this point Draco cringed when he thought back on his third year, and how much of a git he'd been to his old professor. Evidently Remus held no grudges over it, though, as he treated Draco with more respect than anyone - other than Hermione, of course - in the entire house.

"Have you thought any more about -"

"No," Draco cut in, having heard this question before. "You know you're the only one who wants me there, anyway. Weasley - er, _Ron_ \- would have a fit if I showed up." Calling Ron by first name left a bitter taste in Draco's mouth.

"They're only going to _keep_ thinking that," Hermione said, "Unless you show up and teach them differently. They haven't seen you like I have. To them you're still - well -"

"A ferret?" Draco offered, frowning.

Hermione shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips.

Draco scowled at her, though it took some effort. He didn't want to cause trouble with Hermione, especially since she was arguably the only good thing in his life at the moment. That being said, he wasn't about to jump into dueling lessons surrounded by people who hated him either. He did value his own life, after all.

He sighed. " _Fine_. But give me a few weeks, alright?"

Hermione brightened considerably. "Done."

She sipped at her tea, though her energy faded rapidly. Ever since the meeting, after which Hermione had pulled Remus aside, she'd been acting a bit odd. Draco had assumed she just wanted to offer her own congratulations, but now it made him wonder.

"Something's wrong," he said.

Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, then changed her mind. She set her tea on the coffee table and took a deep breath.

"I'm going home tomorrow," she said. "I - I need to see my parents."

"Home?" Draco repeated. "Is it safe? How are you going to -"

"Professor Lupin - er, Remus - is taking me," she replied, looking down. "I told him it'll just take an afternoon."

"Okay..." Draco said. "Let me go with you."

"You can't leave the house, Draco."

"To hell with that," he said, "I'm going nutters in here as it is. I'm going with you."

"Draco -"

"Don't tell me you don't want me to meet your parents," he said, smirking.

"There's no _point_ ," Hermione snapped. "There's no point if they're not going to remember you afterward, is there?"

Draco's brow furrowed. He sat up straighter on the couch. "What are you going to do, Hermione?"

She wouldn't meet his gaze, instead staring resolutely at the fraying carpet. Taking in a ragged breath, Hermione made sure to stay composed, showing no signs of all the crying she'd done already.

"I'm going to protect my parents," she said coolly. "They're muggles, so it shouldn't be difficult. They need to go away… And forget about all of this."

Draco watched her, taken aback at this news.

"Can't they come here?" he asked.

"It's more dangerous here than where they're going."

"But - Hermione," Draco said, shaking his head, "Are you sure?"

She chewed on her lip, then looked up finally, her eyes perfectly dry.

"Yes. I'm quite sure."

They fell into silence. As much as Draco wanted to argue the point, to prove in some way that he needed to go along also, he knew it was useless. Now more than ever he was glad to have trust in Remus Lupin.

Draco reached out a hand and touched Hermione's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Hermione nodded. "Thanks."

…

Ron and Harry, who had previously been locked in a vicious game of wizard's chess, looked up when their bedroom door opened. Hermione peeked in.

"It's about four now," she said. She shut the door behind herself, then cast a quick _muffliato_.

"Glad you could squeeze us in," Ron mumbled.

Hermione ignored the jibe, taking up a seat on Harry's bed. They'd agreed to meet at four o'clock and discuss their horcrux hunting. Unfortunately they couldn't leave Grimmauld Place until Harry came of age in July - otherwise he'd be useless - but they could still plan.

Harry shot Ron a hard look, but otherwise didn't disagree. If he hadn't witnessed Draco's actions on the Astronomy Tower, hadn't seen Draco throw himself under the bus to protect Hermione, then he'd be just as bitter as Ron. As it _was_ Harry wasn't particularly pleased. He'd gone chasing after Snape the moment Dumbledore's immobilizing charm wore off, and hadn't spared Draco a thought until later that night. It made his head spin.

"So," Harry began, "Any thoughts on R.A.B.?"

Ron shook his head.

"Anything in the books?" he asked Hermione.

"Nothing I've found," she answered. "Nothing on horcruxes either. The last book I tried nearly bit my hand off."

Harry groaned. "There has to be a way to figure this out."

"We're trying, mate," Ron said.

"I know, we just - we don't have forever," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "We have until July at least. We can't move before then, right?" Neither of her friends argued. "So we keep thinking, and looking for clues. In the meantime we can focus on duelling - er, sorry Harry."

In everyone's excitement earlier that day, they'd forgotten that Harry couldn't actually participate in the duelling. It hadn't dampened his spirits much at the time, but after a few hours of thinking on it, he'd grown quite frustrated.

"It's okay," he said. He didn't sound okay at all.

Ron and Hermione shared a concerned look, trying to think of the right thing to say. Hermione finally placed a hand on Harry's knee, though he didn't look up.

"Look, mate," Ron said, "There's loads for you to do, still. There has to be something useful around here." He laughed. "I reckon you get rid of Kreacher first, though. He's worse than -"

Hermione gasped. "Wait - hang on -"

She jumped to her feet and flew out of the room, the door banging open behind her.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, both worried and impressed. "Has she ever run that fast?"

Harry was about to reply when they heard a shriek from down the hall. A moment later, Hermione skidded back into the room, her mess of curls even wilder than usual.

"I've got it!" She said, totally breathless. "R.A.B. - oh come _on_ -"

Harry got to his feet. Casting a nervous glance to Ron, who shrugged, he followed Hermione. She had started chattering on, her words barely intelligible at this point.

"I _knew_ I recognized it - can't believe I didn't think of it before - this whole time it was right under my nose -"

She led the boys down the hall, past the other bedrooms, then up the stairs. Arriving at the top landing, Hermione pointed at the nearest door.

" _There_ ," she said triumphantly. "R.A.B.!"

Ron's jaw dropped. Harry ran a hand through his hair, still processing this development.

"You mean… R.A.B. is… Sirius's brother?" Harry asked. "Regulus Black -"

"Regulus _Arcturus_ Black," Hermione interrupted.

"Death Eater," Ron breathed.

" _Inner circle_ of Death Eaters -"

Harry stiffened, catching Hermione's attention. He crossed his arms and aimed a glare over Hermione's shoulder. She faltered, having grown excited, and glanced back.

Draco stood on the staircase, ascending slowly, a look of confusion on his face. He stared at Hermione, tilting his head in question.

"Oh - Draco," she said.

"Go away, Malfoy," Ron growled. "This doesn't concern you."

"Really?" Draco asked, giving Ron a well-practiced sneer. "Because the whole house can hear you, you know. What's Regulus got to do with anything?"

Hermione shot Draco a warning look, which he ignored.

"Keep out of it," Harry said. His hand twitched. Hermione held her breath, hoping he wouldn't forget he couldn't use magic.

Draco remained there a moment longer, soaking in Harry and Ron's discomfort, before casting a more sincere look to Hermione. She glared at him briefly.

"He's up," Draco said simply. "I just thought you'd like to know."

With that, Draco turned and retreated. Harry and Ron seethed in his wake, though his words gave Hermione a start; if what Draco said was true, then Blaise had gotten out of bed for the first time in two weeks, which was indeed good news.

…

When Hermione made it to Blaise's room, she found it empty, and she decided to take that as a good sign. Not finding him in the library either, she ducked into the kitchen, where she heard scattered laughter.

Beaming down at Blaise, Mrs. Weasley stood over the stove, putting on a kettle for tea. Blaise sat at the table in a borrowed red sweater, a large B knitted on its front, and despite his obvious bedhead and the scars covering his face, he grinned radiantly. Draco slid into the chair beside his friend.

"Well I _mean_ it," Mrs. Weasley went on. "It's not healthy, the way you boys go about it these days - oh hello, Hermione dear - you'll see, just a bit more weight and you'll be strong as an ox…"

Blaise looked to the newcomer, his smile slipping just a touch. Hermione sat down at Draco's other side.

"Isn't it nice to see him up and about?" Mrs. Weasley asked, setting three empty mugs on the counter. When she glanced at Blaise, her eyes twinkled with fondness.

"It's about time," Draco said, smirking.

"It's _lovely_ ," Hermione corrected him.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, humming happily to herself. In light of all the recent tragedy, she'd officially nursed their last ailing occupant back to health, and that was something to celebrate.

Hermione reached a hand out and placed it over Blaise's. When he looked at her, she saw his same dark-brown eyes. She saw the same sharp jawline and defined brow. In many ways, though, he didn't look like the same person at all. Several thick, raised lines crossed his cheeks and nose, and one turned the left side of his mouth down permanently in a semi-frown - though at the moment, flashing Hermione another broad grin, Blaise masked it well. Another scar ran through his right eyebrow, narrowly missing his eye, and cut into his hairline a bit.

Besides the scars, Hermione had never seen him like this. At Hogwarts he was always put-together. He always looked like he'd spent an hour carefully preening himself in front of a mirror - which he probably had - and not a hair was ever out of place. Now his hair stuck out at odd angles, his sweater was askew, and Hermione was sure he hadn't worn matching socks.

"I heard talk of duelling," Blaise said, answering the unasked question. "Need to redeem myself eventually, don't I? Besides, you lot need all the pointers you can get." He finished with a wink.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't suppress the contentment she felt. Draco draped an arm across the back of her chair, and when she looked over, he seemed just as happy. Maybe things were coming right again.

"Oh, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder, "Remus said he'd be by around eleven tomorrow. Should I pack a lunch?"

And just like that, Hermione's hope drained. Not everything was coming right. With war on the horizon, some things were coming very much undone.

* * *

 **A/N:** Whew, another chapter up. I hope this answered some questions for you guys - of course, there are only more questions to come, right?

It's about time I give a shout-out to a few of my loyal reviewers: _.16, SereniteRose, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, viola1701e, Ads S, Dolphin02_... And so many more of you. Thank you for your reviews. Thank you for being consistent in giving me feedback. It always pushes me forward to hear back from you guys. If you don't see your name on that list, I still very much appreciate your reviews, and I'm always thankful to receive them.

Notes on the chapter: I appreciate that Molly had Blaise to dote upon. I can see some parallels between him and another loved one of hers. Plus, once he's snapped out of his stint of depression, he's got to be his usual suave self, right? I'm curious how you all feel about his changes. Despite the fact that Hermione still calls him handsome, I don't mean to make him gorgeously-scarred - no, he's pretty beat up. He won't be pretty again. But for those of us who can love him in spite of his scars, he will always be handsome ol' Blaise.

I think I brushed a lot of angst under the rug, but things aren't all chipper. People died. Young people. That's going to change things.

Also, moving forward: I don't want to focus too much on the horcruxes, but they're a big part of the plot. I find it tedious, but oh well. What I WILL focus on is how the hunting goes now that we have some new faces thrown into the mix.

I hope you enjoyed that Harry's not going back to the Dursleys. I always thought that was dumb. Like stated, they have a professional Curse-Breaker present, so the Order can keep themselves safe. For now.

Love you all. Let me know any thoughts you have, and anything you're excited/confused about for future chapters.

Penny


	36. Summer at Grimmauld Place

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Summer at Grimmauld Place**

Ginny reclined on the stairs, twirling her wand idly in her fingers. She sat at the upmost landing of Grimmauld Place, the door to the attic wide open across from her, and she did her best to ignore the bright flashes of color and rambunctious laughter filtering through. Week four of dueling practice was well underway, it seemed.

She heard the floor creak as someone came up the stairs; at the sight of disorderly black hair and bright green eyes, Ginny smiled.

"Hey you," she said. Harry smiled back, taking a seat beside her.

"Hey," he said.

Ginny took up one of his hands. "Won't be long now, and you'll be in there too."

Harry's face burned – he was suddenly aware that his nails could use a trim, but he couldn't bring himself to retract his hand from Ginny's soft grasp – and he tried not to think about his impending birthday. July 31st loomed ever nearer each day, which brought him both relief and exponential levels of stress at the same time. He'd be of age, finally. He'd also be facing a hunt for horcruxes that could prove quite deadly.

"Harry?" Ginny leaned in, a questioning look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "Sorry, just… A lot on my mind." He looked toward the attic door. "Maybe if you were in there too I could actually look forward to it."

They watched as Charlie Weasley paired off with Hermione. The two stepped into the center of the room, which was quite spacious and airy after Hermione had modified it a bit, and bowed. Harry couldn't see the others, but he could hear Fred and George telling jokes from the corner of the room.

Hermione shot a jinx Charlie's way, a burst of blue light emitting from her wand. He threw up a shield; right as the jinx rebounded, he called " _petrificus totalus!_ " and missed Hermione by mere inches.

"Don't you go easy on me," Hermione snapped. "If I were a Death Eater you wouldn't say it out loud!"

Charlie raised his eyebrows, a boyish grin on his face. He shrugged.

"Have it your way, Granger," he said. Then he swished his wand, sending a sweeping yellow light toward her.

Hermione blocked it. Water spouted from her wand and immediately, with a second flick of her wrist, the stream froze into an icicle. Charlie ducked, but still managed to hit the ice with some unspoken spell. It vaporized into steam over his head.

"You're not coming back next year, are you?" Ginny asked quietly. "To Hogwarts."

Harry turned to her, his heart sinking. He _really_ didn't want to have this conversation right now.

"No," he said. "I think after the wedding, we'll go."

"Take me with you," Ginny said, turning her hazel eyes on him. "You know I can help. You've seen me duel –"

"You won't be of age," Harry replied, his voice low.

"Then I won't use magic," Ginny said. "But I'll stay out of the way – I'll figure something out…"

Harry looked down. "Ginny."

She didn't try to argue further. Instead Ginny set Harry's hand in his lap, shaking her head, and she stood up. Her eyes shimmered, and the sight twisted Harry's stomach into a knot. He hadn't seen Ginny cry since her second year. She wasn't like Hermione, who wore her emotions on her sleeve.

"I need some tea," Ginny said. Without a glance back she retreated down the stairs, and Harry watched her go without protest.

A thundering _bang_ came from the attic, and Hermione shrieked. Harry leapt to his feet, reaching the door just as she crumpled to the ground.

Charlie, a mix of shock and worry on his face, knelt by the bushy-haired witch. Soon a swarm of red-haired Weasley boys surrounded her. Harry noticed Blaise leaning against the wall, watching from afar, but worry lined his scarred face as well.

"Alright, _alright_ ," Hermione hissed, waving them away. "I'm _fine_. Honestly."

Ron glared at Charlie, who paid him no mind. Hermione sat up, rubbing her shoulder, which revealed a heavily burnt sleeve and blistered skin beneath. Despite the wince she gave, she appeared more annoyed than anything.

"This is good, actually," she said. "You all need practice anyway."

"I can heal you up," Charlie said, pulling her to her feet.

"Which means _you_ don't need to practice," she pointed out, but she smiled reassuringly at him.

"Er – which spell was that, again?" Ron asked.

Before Hermione could launch into a lecture, seeing as how neither Fred nor George seemed to remember either, Blaise rolled his eyes. He pushed off from the wall and strode into the group.

Grasping Hermione's arm gingerly, he eyed her shoulder. Harry couldn't see any blood from where he stood. Then Blaise raised his wand and said " _Episkey_."

Ron stared on murderously.

"Good," Hermione said. She rubbed her shoulder, nodding in approval. "At least one of you was paying attention."

"Show-off," George muttered.

Blaise winked at him, then returned to his place against the wall. He spotted Harry, and his smile faltered – Blaise and Draco still hadn't found a place of acceptance with Harry or Ron. Blaise got on well enough with everyone else by now, not that it did him any favors. He'd gotten into a heated debate with Ginny the other night about quidditch, and Harry hadn't appreciated the playful banter it devolved into.

"Potter," Blaise greeted curtly.

"Hey Harry," Charlie said. He glanced at his watch. "That time again, is it?"

"Thank Merlin," Ron said, rubbing his stomach. Usually Harry's arrival signaled dinner, and so the others began shuffling past him to head downstairs.

Hermione pulled at her sleeve, trying to get a good look at the tear. Blaise watched her struggle to get a good angle, aiming her wand and rethinking it several times. She huffed.

"Here," he said, walking back over. He stood at her side, lifting her arm again, and lowered his voice. "Still think we're all destined to be best mates? Because so far, I see no progress."

"They just need more time," she insisted.

"Right." He focused his energy and watched the grey fabric stitch together again. It left a permanent mark on her sweater, a thick line of overlapping thread, and it somewhat resembled the scars covering Blaise's body. He frowned at it.

"Thanks," Hermione said quietly, snapping Blaise out of his reverie. He straightened, realizing how close he stood, and stepped back.

Harry and Ron had left already, not bothering to wait on Hermione. Blaise caught a look of disappointment cross her face.

"They just need time," he repeated.

Hermione didn't reply, but she gave him a small smile before heading down the stairs. It had been wishful thinking when she'd said it, which didn't make it any better to hear just now.

…

Charlie stayed for dinner, though he was the only guest that night. The residents of Number Twelve were used to housing various Order members or extraneous Weasleys, so that evening the house felt quieter than usual. The Burrow had been approved for safety ages ago, but Harry wanted to remain at Grimmauld place. It was their key to researching R.A.B. and the locket, so he couldn't abandon it just yet. Ron and Hermione stayed with Harry, and then Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny all decided to stay as well. It was too difficult for Molly to split her time between her children otherwise.

Draco and Blaise sat together at the far end of the table, Hermione beside Draco and serving as a buffer between him and Ginny. He resisted the urge to excuse himself and pull Hermione away. Draco's entire body buzzed, alive with adrenaline after receiving some news that afternoon.

"Aren't you hungry?" Hermione whispered, ignoring the chatter between the Weasleys. She glanced pointedly at his stew, which he hadn't touched.

In response, Draco merely picked up his spoon and began politely stirring around his bowl. He couldn't stomach the thought of eating. Molly, always on high alert for signs of illness among her brood, narrowed her eyes at him.

"Not feeling well, Draco?" she asked. The chatter ceased.

"Not quite," he answered, setting down the spoon. "Sorry."

"Nerves?" Charlie asked. "Mad-Eye told me he'd be by today. Try not to worry – he knows what he's doing."

Draco nodded. Hermione scanned the table, noting all the questioning faces; judging by their expressions, no one understood the cryptic message except Charlie, Draco, and Mr. Weasley. She turned to Draco.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I think I'll turn in early," Draco said. He looked to Mrs. Weasley, who waved him off with a nod.

"Of course, dear," she said. "There'll be leftovers for later if you get peckish."

"Thanks." Draco stood, set his napkin on the table, and pushed in his chair. He gave Charlie a tight smile before leaving the room.

Hermione and Blaise locked eyes. She could see all the concern and confusion she felt mirrored in his gaze, though he waited to see what she would do. After a moment Hermione quietly excused herself, ignoring the stony silence as she did so, and she followed Draco into the hall.

She found him in the library. He sat with his legs propped up while he stared at the ceiling, his white-blonde hair ruffled and untidy.

"Draco?" she asked, knocking on the doorframe.

He drew in a deep breath and turned to her. Hermione looked the same as always, her thick hair pulled back from her face and her dark eyes inquisitive. She didn't get shy with him anymore, not the way she had at Hogwarts, and Draco felt drawn toward that subtle confidence. Memories flitted through his mind: kissing her against the bookshelves in the library; kissing her, again, in the broom cupboard, and wanting desperately to have more; then, a few short months ago, snogging her each night in the Room of Requirement.

Something restless always pushed Draco's mind in that direction, something possessive and endlessly curious, but for now he buried it under more respectable thoughts.

"What was Charlie talking about?" Hermione asked, crossing toward the settee. She sat beside him, her knee touching his, and she reached for his hand.

Draco laced his fingers through hers, comfort flooding through him at the touch. He let out his breath.

"Moody paid me a visit today," he said. "They've been getting reports that my parents – well, the Death Eaters have them in a bad place. It's complicated."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He – er, _Voldemort_ – he's keeping them around for now," Draco said. He cleared his throat. "No one trusts them, though. I'm sure Moody left out the bloody details, but the Death Eaters... Knowing _him_ they've probably been used as an example of what happens to blood-traitors."

Hermione's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Draco shook his head. "Moody says if I want to get them out, it's now or never. They're going in tomorrow."

"What? _Tomorrow?_ "

"My father will be treated as a criminal, of course," Draco continued. "But they'll bring my mother here, into hiding with me."

Hermione's brain worked furiously to process this news. It was strange that she, Harry, and Ron hadn't been included in the debriefing – but then, why should they? This had nothing to do with Harry or horcrux-hunting, nothing like that. She knew they'd receive intel after the fact, but for now this was purely Draco's business.

She squeezed his hand. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"I don't believe you." Hermione watched Draco's face. He refused to meet her gaze, choosing instead to stare intently at the opposite wall, and he was so carefully composed… In her gut she knew his expression couldn't reflect his actual feelings. He'd put up a wall to look strong.

Hermione studied him. He had started looking older, more like an adult than the arrogant bully she'd met during their first year. His jaw and brow had grown more angular, his shoulders broader than years before. When standing, the top of Hermione's head only reached his chin. He wasn't a boy anymore.

"What Charlie said was right," Hermione said. "Moody knows what he's doing, and he'll have the best aurors on the job. You'll see."

Draco nodded. It didn't actually relieve his worries, but having Hermione there still made him feel better. Actually, despite all he'd been through, Hermione had _always_ been the one to make it better. He didn't entirely understand what she saw in him, but that didn't matter now.

"Hermione," he said, staring down at their interlinked hands. "I'd like to ask you something."

"Well… Of course," she replied.

Draco nodded again, stalling. He'd wanted to do this for a long time now. So why was it suddenly so hard to speak?

"Hermione," he began, "Would you –"

"Shh," she said, holding up a hand. "Did you hear that?"

"Er –"

"I think someone's here." Hermione paused, listening intently. Sure enough, new voices sounded from the dining room. If Draco wasn't mistaken, Moody had come back.

"Right," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. "Later. We should… We should go."

Hermione hopped up off of the couch, but before she could take a step, Moody appeared in the hallway. He looked as severe as ever, with his mouth in a permanent, jagged frown, and his glass eye whizzed about in its socket. Remus Lupin appeared at Moody's elbow.

"Miss Granger," Moody said with a nod. "We'll be needing a moment with Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's heart dropped. He hadn't expected to hear back from the aurors so soon. Without thinking, he reached out and took Hermione's hand. She glanced back at him questioningly.

"She can stay," he said.

Moody assessed the pair of them for a moment, his normal eye narrowed, and then he nodded in approval. He stepped into the library, his wooden leg making a dull _clunk_ against the floor, while Remus shut the doors behind them.

Remus gave his former students a small smile.

"You both look well," he remarked.

"Thank you, Prof— er, Remus," Hermione said.

"What's going on?" Draco asked. "Is this about my parents?"

Remus looked to Moody, whose magical eye had rolled back to spy on the upper floors of the house. Moody coughed into his fist.

"As of this evening, your parents are missing," he said. "Our contact says they disappeared. As you can imagine, this is both good and bad news."

Draco's brow furrowed, but he didn't speak.

"Just because we can't find them, doesn't mean they aren't safe," Remus said. "In fact, if our aurors can't locate your parents, then it's unlikely the Death Eaters can either. For now it seems they've been quite successful in their escape."

"Do you think they'll come for him?" Hermione asked. "Not that they'd know where to look, of course…"

"They'll look," Draco said quietly. "They'll be smart about it, though."

The four fell into silence. Hermione glanced about, trying to think of the right thing to say, but nothing came to mind. Moody looked increasingly uncomfortable – sympathy wasn't his strong suit – while Remus merely clasped his hands and looked at the floor.

"If there's anything you need, Draco, please let me know," Remus said.

"Right, and if you hear anything, you know who to floo." Moody turned abruptly, more than ready to escape the awkward silence.

"Right," Draco said. He nodded to Remus. "Thank you."

Remus nodded back, still looking quite sympathetic, and he followed Moody out of the room.

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand.

"Draco…" she said.

"I think I need to be alone," he said, still very quiet. "I'll – I'll see you tomorrow." He let go of Hermione's hand, then paused. Leaning forward, Draco planted a soft kiss on her forehead as though to say, "thank you." Then he turned and left without looking back.

…

The next week went by without much to show for it. It was decided that the Weasleys would return to the Burrow for the week leading up to Bill and Fleur's wedding, and so Harry and Hermione would join them. Since Ron was so opposed to housing Draco and Blaise in his home, however, the two Slytherins opted to stay at Grimmauld Place, despite having open invitations to attend the nuptials. Charlie had returned to Romania after that evening of dueling, but after sending an owl to Bill which mentioned his approval of Blaise, Bill had sent word to his mother that they should all feel welcome at the ceremony and reception.

Ron hadn't liked that at all.

"He's _my_ brother," he'd said to Harry, angrily flinging his clothes into his trunk. "Why should _they_ get to show up for his wedding?"

"No clue," Harry muttered, busy packing up his own things.

"It's barmy, that's what it is," Ron continued. "And you can bet Hermione'll be too busy writing _Malfoy_ to do any research. It's like we don't even exist anymore!"

"What research is that?" Harry asked.

"You know," Ron said, "Horcrux stuff."

Harry didn't argue. Truthfully, while Hermione had her hands full with various distractions, she'd still pulled through for her friends. It was even her idea to check with Kreacher to find the locket, not that they could currently with the house so full of guests. They'd decided to check back just after the wedding, while everyone would still be away at the Burrow.

Ron continued to mutter to himself as he gathered his things.

"I wonder who else will be there," Harry said.

"Who cares?" Ron snapped.

Harry let it drop. He'd been about to hint that Ron might run into a prospective girlfriend at the wedding, since the guest list was so large, but Ron hardly seemed interested.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Just me," Hermione said, poking her head in. "We're all meeting downstairs in a half-hour. They won't be leaving the floo open once we're moved, so Mrs. Weasley doesn't want anyone left behind."

Ron snorted. "Right. Like any of us would be so _lucky_."

Hermione looked to Harry, who shrugged. Then she rolled her eyes and left.

"Do you really trust Malfoy and Zabini here on their own?" Ron asked. "Who knows what kind of trouble they'll get into…"

Harry didn't reply. He actually had no worries about Draco and Blaise, since they'd always been respectful enough of the house. Recently he'd even had a hard time disliking them at all. Draco's face had a tendency to annoy Harry enough on its own, but really… Between the two of them, all summer Draco and Blaise had kept to themselves. Blaise had even distanced himself from Ginny, which admittedly Harry had appreciated.

He still couldn't make sense of Hermione and Draco, though. How long had that been going on? It caught him off-guard to think that Hermione had some secret romance… Although, maybe he shouldn't be so shocked, considering how well she'd hidden her feelings for Viktor Krum during their fourth year.

Harry's mind wandered, eventually coming back around to Ginny. He hadn't patched things up with her yet. Hopefully she'd come around.

"Ready, mate?" Ron asked. He snapped his trunk shut.

"Right, yeah," Harry said. Closing his trunk as well, and trying not to worry about things with Ginny, he smiled at his friend. For now, at least, his problems looked pretty small.

…

Draco, perched on his usual spot in the library, stared intently at Blaise. His friend sat on the opposite end of the sofa, a mug of tea in hand, and chewed on his lip thoughtfully. After a long minute scrolled by, Draco's nervousness increasing with every second, Blaise set down the mug and sighed.

"I don't know," he said.

"Well, what do you mean?" Draco asked. "What don't you know about?"

"The timing of it, for one," Blaise replied. He propped a leg up on the coffee table and reclined back. "It just seems a bit suspect. Objectively, of course."

"What's wrong with the bloody timing?" Draco asked, crossing his arms. "You're the one who always told me to go for it –"

"Always?" Blaise raised an eyebrow.

Draco huffed. " _Always_ after fourth year, anyway."

"Look, I just think you need to consider how it looks from the outside," Blaise said. "I mean, you've had all summer to ask her, but you haven't. So why now? And _speaking_ of fourth year, I seem to remember Hermione getting her knickers twisted over Weasley doing the same thing. Girls don't forget that stuff."

"I – it's – don't compare me to Weasley!" Draco stammered. "And it's not the same thing!"

"Mhmm."

Blaise picked up his tea again and sipped at it. Playing devil's advocate with Draco was mostly for amusement, since Draco rarely got so ruffled about these things anymore. He really hadn't been so riled up since his younger years at Hogwarts, when Potter would best him at something or Hermione made him feel stupid. The throwback made Blaise smile.

"Think this is funny, do you?" Draco snapped.

"Er – no, not at all," Blaise said.

Draco got up and started pacing. He pushed his hair out of his face.

"I don't know why I haven't done it yet," he admitted. "I keep meaning to, but then when she's right in front of me, I can't do it. And don't you repeat any of that," he added. "The last thing I need is for Potter or Weasley to hear how bloody pathetic I am."

"It's not pathetic. Besides, girls love that kind of thing."

At Draco's skeptical look, Blaise went on. "What I _mean_ is that girls love to know they make you nervous. Trust me. Tell her that's why you haven't asked already, and even Hermione Granger will swoon."

Draco laughed. "Right. Like it'll be that easy."

"Well, what are you afraid of?" Blaise asked.

"I don't know!" Draco sat again. "Maybe that she'll say no? That she's decided I'm not as exciting now that I'm stuck in here all the time?"

" _Mate_ ," Blaise said, "She'll say yes. Don't worry about that."

"Then why are you making this so _difficult?_ "

"You know." Blaise shrugged, grinning. "Got to keep things interesting."

"Keep what interesting?"

The boys both looked up, Blaise dropping his leg from the table and Draco jumping to his feet. Hermione stood at the library door, eyeing them suspiciously.

"Nothing," they said together.

Blaise cleared his throat. "Off to the Burrow, then?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione said. "Think you can survive without me?"

"Just barely." Blaise stood, raised his mug in cheers, and started toward the door. "See you at the wedding, Granger."

"Miss you already, Blaise."

Hermione stepped into the library and allowed Blaise to pass by, then tugged the door closed behind him. Draco tried not to act nervous, but it was hard; she looked lovely as ever in a cobalt-blue jumper and simple jeans, her hair pulled over one shoulder. Draco's mouth felt dry.

"It's going to be a long week, I think," Hermione said, walking up to him. "I'd have more fun if you would come, too."

"Yeah," Draco said. "Me too."

His gaze fell to the floor.

 _It's now or never_ , he thought.

"Hermione," he said, "About that thing I wanted to ask you…"

"Oh, right," she said. "I forgot about that. What was it?"

"I – er –" Draco's mind raced, his thoughts too mangled to make any sense. In that moment of silence, however, Hermione slipped her hand into his. Everything slowed down. He sighed, looking at their interlocked hands. "I'm sorry, I know you don't have much time."

"It's okay," she said.

"The truth is, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now," he continued. "I just haven't found the right chance… Not with everything going on lately. It's all been a mess, but it's not so bad, not when you're here."

Hermione blinked, trying to gauge Draco's meaning, but he kept on before she could ask.

"I… I want you to be my girlfriend."

" _Oh,_ " she said, a deep blush filling her cheeks. "You really mean that?"

"Of _course_ I mean it," Draco said. He stared down at her, his pulse racing, running through all the worst-case-scenarios in his head. She could ask to just be friends. She could drop his hand and leave him standing there on his own. She could _laugh_.

"Well… Yes," Hermione said. She smiled shyly at him. "How could I say no to that?"

Relief swept through Draco. He grinned, probably looking quite silly, but he didn't care much. Pulling Hermione up off the ground, he spun her around once, ignoring her yelp of surprise and the way she half-seriously demanded to be put back on the ground.

"Well if _this_ is how you're going to behave –"

"Then you'll just have to get used to it," Draco teased. He obliged her anyway, setting her gently down, but he still held her close. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Draco rested his chin on Hermione's head.

"Maybe I could…" Hermione said, hugging him back. She didn't want to think about the long week ahead. Her things were packed and by the door, and any minute now Molly would come knocking. She held him tighter. "I really think I could."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey all. I am so, sincerely sorry for the delay. I never meant to land another hiatus on you, but unfortunately I've needed to switch my focus onto college.

I _will_ keep updating Pre-Not until it's finished, but please don't anticipate the quick updates I used to do. At this point, I have the story mapped out entirely, and I have the next chapter as well as a few others (or later on) written. They just need revised mostly. I will get Chapter 36 (A Wedding to Remember) posted in the next few days, I can promise you that. Afterward, please give me some patience and leeway. I really don't know what my timeline is at this point.

As for this chapter specifically, I'm sorry if there are any errors. I re-read most of it but I don't have a lot of time (I'm actually at work right now) so I crossed my fingers that I did enough editing before. Something I've noticed is that I'm actually most attached to Blaise, out of all the characters. He's the closest thing to an OC I have here, really, so I guess that makes sense. Please let me know what you think! Critique is always appreciated, as long as it's constructive. I want to keep improving for you guys.

Thank you for your support. I have received more reviews than I could have imagined, and even a few messages - shout out to Adrianaf, who reached out to me yesterday. Your kind words reminded me how important Pre-Not is to me, and that I can make time for it here and there, and I should keep at it.

Love you all,

Penny


	37. A Wedding to Remember

**Chapter Thirty-Six: A Wedding To Remember**

Hermione paced anxiously in the den of the Burrow, which had been cleansed to perfection, and she reached up to pat her hair again. Fleur, in her pre-wedding jitters, had demanded that Hermione "do _something_ with zat 'orrible hair," and then proceeded to force Hermione into a chair and braid the mess herself. Not that Hermione would let on, but she actually quite liked how it turned out.

She glanced at the clock, chewing her lip. She smoothed out her dress again. Draco and Blaise should have arrived by now... The ceremony began in twenty minutes, and the multitude of guests had begun to shuffle through and take their seats in the garden.

Finally, green flames burst to life in the fireplace. Blaise stepped out, frowning at the soot on his sleeve.

"Oh, bugger," he muttered, brushing himself off. Then he looked up, surprised to find that he wasn't alone. "Hermione – looking lovely as ever, of course."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Blaise. You as well. Where did you find these, anyway?"

She stepped forward and pulled out her wand, erasing any trace of soot with a simple vanishing spell. Blaise wore well-fitted black dress robes of a simple variety. They weren't nearly as flashy as the green he wore to the Yule Ball, Hermione noticed, and she wondered if his recent scarring had anything to do with it. He didn't seem quite as confident these days.

"I have my ways," he replied with a wink.

"Mhmm." Hermione paused, then hesitantly reached for Blaise's crooked bow tie. He didn't object. "Where's Draco? At this rate he'll interrupt the ceremony."

Blaise looked down. "He got a letter, actually. Weasley's pipsqueak of an owl delivered it. Apparently his mum had an idea of how to find him, after all."

"You can't mean –"

"They don't know about Grimmauld Place," Blaise said, catching Hermione's hand. Her fussing with his tie had grown frantic. "I _promise_."

For a moment, Blaise paused, still clutching Hermione's hand. Her eyebrows drew together, not understanding what ran through Blaise's mind; it caught him off-guard too. A few choice swear words popped into his head.

Someone coughed. Blaise dropped Hermione's hand like it burned him, straightening up and facing the newcomer.

Harry stood in the doorway, a look of trepidation on his face.

"Mrs. Weasley's asked us to sit," he said.

"Right, just one minute," Hermione said. Harry left slowly, locking eyes briefly with Blaise, who looked away.

Hermione turned back to Blaise. "What did the letter say?"

"Oh – er, I'm not exactly sure," he said. "Just don't hold your breath that you'll see him before the reception. It looked long."

"Okay," Hermione said. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Well… Let's find our seats, then."

Blaise followed Hermione through the cramped house and out into the garden, where neat rows of white chairs faced a delicate, flowery archway. Fireflies buzzed about lazily despite the early hour, and white linens waved in the breeze overhead, offering them all a bit of shade.

Hermione found Ron and Harry, and she slid into the seat beside them. Blaise settled himself at her other side, his mind still rattling with uncomfortable questions, and he surveyed the other guests to keep himself occupied. A family of white-haired veelas took up the front row, practically glittering in the sun, and a myriad of red-headed witches and wizards dotted the audience as well. A young woman with curly blonde hair sat beside an eccentrically-dressed older man, and when she turned, Blaise's breath caught.

"You didn't say Luna would be here," he hissed, ducking his head.

"What?"

"Just – oh, nevermind," he said, trying to wave away Hermione's obvious curiosity.

It was bad enough to find himself thinking differently about Hermione. Why did he have to face his ridiculous Hogwarts crush as well? Blaise clasped his hands together, trying to keep them from shaking. No one from Hogwarts had seen him since that bloody duel. Around Grimmauld Place, where everyone knew about the scars and looked at him no differently, he could relax. But here…

Would Luna even recognize him?

He tried not to get ahead of himself. Since the duel, Blaise had put all thoughts of girls out of his mind. They'd always liked him primarily for his looks, he knew. He wasn't stupid. Now, without even his looks to get him by, Blaise didn't stand a chance. Which was okay. It had to be okay.

Entirely lost in his own thoughts, Blaise didn't hear the processional music start up. He felt a tug on his shoulder – everyone was standing, and Hermione pulled at his robes with annoyance. Blaise stood, keeping his face carefully composed. He caught a few guests staring at him, much like they stared at Mad-Eye Moody on the other side of the aisle, and it didn't do much for his nerves.

 _You can do this_ , he told himself.

Hermione leaned over. "Are you alright?" she whispered.

Blaise nodded. She was a good friend.

Just a friend.

And that was okay.

…

Draco hopped out of the hearth at the Burrow, accidentally scattering ashes about the den. He grimaced, got out his wand, and vanished the mess. Pocketing his wand once more, and trying to pull himself together, he stepped up to the window and looked outside. Fleur and Bill Weasley stood under a little arch of roses, all their loved ones watching on, with no sign of beginning the reception just yet.

He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long, now. Molly had offered more than once to give him a trim, and while Draco had scoffed at the idea before, he now felt rather silly for turning her down. At least he'd shaved properly.

 _The robes make up for it_ , he told himself. He'd opted for a slate-gray cloak over black trousers and a proper white blouse, sans tie of course. Blaise had gone the more traditional route, which suited him well enough, though Madame Malkin had tried her best to fit him with something more roguish-looking. Most likely to play up his scars, Draco thought.

After so many weeks cooped up at Number Twelve, the boys had desperately needed a break. No one needed to know about their little trip to Diagon Alley, anyway. Not that anyone would ask.

Outside, the wedding-goers all stood and began to applaud, rose petals materializing and drifting through the air. It was all so _frilly_. Thank Merlin for Hermione, who wouldn't dream of being so impractical –

Draco's breath hitched. If he'd been sipping on a drink just now, he'd surely have spit it out. _Hermione_ and _wedding_ had no business appearing in the same string of thought. Just because she'd agreed to be his _girlfriend_ …

He shook his head. How utterly mental.

Deciding to make his way out to the garden, Draco wound his way through the Burrow and found the door. It wasn't a bad place, actually. He'd always assumed that Weasley lived in an absolute hovel, but this… It was homey. Warm. Draco slipped through the door and stepped into the sun.

Everyone had migrated to the outer edges of the lawn, and several of the older Weasley boys had set to conjuring tables and summoning the chairs to arrange around them. Arthur, along with Remus, Tonks, and several redheads Draco didn't recognize began conjuring more airy linens to hang up above; they held them aloft while Molly swished her wand, knitting them together neatly. Arthur waved his wand and a wooden pole appeared in the center, holding up the top of their very quaint tent.

Fleur, unable to resist, scrunched up her nose at the simple pole. She leaned over to her sister, who held her bouquet, and plucked her wand out from the flowers. With a quick wave she had the beam wrapped in delicate white lace.

" _Zat_ is better," she said. Bill, at her side, grinned at his new wife.

Before Draco knew it, the large tent was filled with floating lights and dotted with round tables at its edges. The center remained open, probably for dancing.

"Decent work, isn't it?" Blaise materialized at Draco's elbow, speaking low.

"More than decent," Draco replied. "Not that I'd tell Weasley that."

Blaise smirked. "Anyway, is everything alright? It took you long enough to get here."

"It's fine," Draco said. "Just a lot to take in, that's all."

When Draco didn't elaborate, Blaise merely nodded. He didn't press the issue further.

Hors d'oevres and drinks arrived at every table, and the guests began milling about excitedly. Some went straight to the happy couple for congratulations while others took up chairs and watched from the sidelines. Draco found himself scanning all the faces in the crowd, searching for that familiar head of ultra-thick brown hair.

"She's over there," Blaise said, pointing to a table in the corner. Draco peered over, unsurprised to find Potter and Weasley there as well, but his Hermione wasn't at all as expected.

"Is that – that's a muggle dress, isn't it?" Draco asked. His mouth felt dry. "Not many frills or layers, there."

"It's definitely not of the _cutesy_ variety, that's for sure," Blaise agreed. He winked at his friend. "I doubt she'd be dressed like that if it weren't for you, mate."

Draco didn't reply – he had too much on his mind – and he set off through the crowd, winding past gaggles of aunts and uncles until he reached Hermione's table. She stood beside it, deep in conversation with Ron and Harry, clutching a modest purse in one hand. The dress in question hugged her curves, reaching just below her knees, but the shallow neckline kept it quite classy. He'd never seen her in a little black dress before, but Draco decided he liked it.

"…It's our _only chance_. When will everyone be gone, _other_ than today?" Harry asked, clearly upset over something.

"I just think we have a bit more to consider now," Hermione hissed. "Dumbledore didn't leave us –"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron cut in. Hermione turned, instinctively reaching up to check her hair, and she gave Draco a relieved smile.

"Oh, Draco – don't mind him," she said. "It's good to see you. We were worried."

Behind her, Ron and Harry shared a look which said just the opposite. Draco ignored them.

"Everything's fine," he said, taking one of her hands. "And tonight's not for worrying – tonight is for dancing and enjoying ourselves. Right, Weasley?"

Run grunted something unintelligible.

"See? He agrees." Draco grinned at Hermione, who tried to suppress a smile and failed. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, seeing as you've _finally_ arrived, I'd like to steal you for a moment." She looked to Ron and Harry, who pointedly stared at the ground. Hermione huffed. "Honestly, you boys are worse than Lavender and Parvati. When you're ready to act like adults again, let us know." Then, wrapping her arm around Draco's elbow, Hermione steered him onto the dance floor.

Once they'd wandered away from the others, Hermione became more serious.

"Blaise told me about the letter," she said, keeping her voice level. "Any news?"

Draco sighed. "I told you, I'm not worrying about that tonight."

He took up her hand and began a gentle waltz; several musicians had taken their places at the altar and played in the background. Bill and Fleur danced together a few paces away, as did several other couples. Arthur and Molly swayed happily in one spot, admiring their new family, while Remus pulled a disgruntled-looking Tonks out and laughed at her suddenly-crimson hair.

"What were you talking about?" Draco asked. "You know, whatever Weasley didn't want me to overhear."

"Oh, that." Hermione looked away. "It's nothing, really."

"It didn't sound like nothing."

"Well… It's not entirely my business to tell," she said. "It wouldn't be fair to Ron or Harry if I told you."

Draco paused. "I won't tell anyone. Not even Blaise. You know that, right?"

"Of _course_ I do," Hermione replied. She ran her hand over his arm, hoping to reassure. "Look, I just need you to trust me on this. There are some things I can't tell you about – namely, things concerning Harry. I thought you knew that."

"I thought it would be different, now that we're dating."

Hermione's face fell. She hated keeping secrets, but this… This _thing_ she had with Draco was so new, she didn't know how to manage it. She hadn't even let anyone know that he'd asked her to be his girlfriend. In comparison to horcrux-hunting and wedding planning, it just hadn't seemed as important.

So where did this put them? Where did this put Draco while Hermione ran off to find horcruxes with Harry and Ron?

"What are you thinking about?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," she said. Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Well… I'm thinking about next year, actually."

"Oh." He hadn't put any thought into Hogwarts yet. It wasn't like he or Blaise could safely return to school anyway. So what would they do? Hang around Grimmauld Place forever?

Instead of voicing any of those questions, Draco cleared his throat. "What about next year?"

"Well… Where we'll be, I think," Hermione said. "I hadn't told you just yet, but we – Harry, Ron, and I – we won't exactly be at Hogwarts."

"Where will you be?" Draco asked, slowing to a stop.

"We're still sorting that out."

"And when you say 'we,' you don't mean…" Draco let go of Hermione entirely, lowering his voice. He tried to look outwardly composed at least. "You're going off without me, aren't you? When were you going to let me know?"

Hermione reached for his hand, then stopped herself. She searched for the right answer. If she only had the right words, she could get them back to dancing happily –

"I'd tell you before I left, of course," she tried. "So it's not like you'd go weeks without knowing –"

"Hermione," Draco interrupted, "When are you leaving?"

Unable to meet his gaze, Hermione looked at the ground. Her eyes burned. She felt really stupid for ruining the evening, especially when she'd waited for it for so long. She'd spent days agonizing over the bloody dress, of all things.

"Draco…"

"I think I need a minute," he said. He turned and made his way out of the tent, not willing to get even more upset in the middle of some idiotic wedding. For the last week everything had finally seemed simple. Even when he read over the letter from his mother, which should have unsettled him, he'd been okay. Because he had Hermione, at least.

It should have been different. He hadn't expected her to suddenly divulge all of Potter's secrets, but to run off with him and Weasley, leaving Draco in the dark about it –

Before Draco could really escape, a burst of white light entered the tent. He squinted, making out the particular shape, and he realized what it was – a patronus. It was some kind of large cat, and with its arrival several of the guests shrieked in surprise. A booming voice echoed from the cat's mouth.

" _THE MINISTRY HAS FALLEN,"_ it said. Draco thought he recognized the voice, but he couldn't place it. _"SCRIMGOUR IS DEAD. THEY'RE COMING."_

The patronus collapsed in on itself, blinking out entirely, and with its dismissal everyone flew into a panic. It seemed that everybody suddenly needed to shout to each other. Left and right people disapparated with ear-splitting _cracks_.

It took a few seconds for Draco to process what he'd just heard. The Ministry of Magic had fallen. The Minister was dead. _They were coming_.

He scanned over the crowd, cursing that Hermione was so damn short, and started pushing his way back toward her. She'd make a beeline for Weasley and Potter, Draco knew. After all, they apparently came first –

"Draco!" Hermione grabbed his sleeve. Her eyes were wide with worry. "You and Blaise need to get back to Grimmauld Place – hurry, you can take the floo –"

"And what about you, then?" he asked.

"I need to get to Harry and Ron," she said, already on her tiptoes and looking out for her friends.

" _Hermione_ ," Draco said, "You heard him – whoever – the Minister's _dead_. You don't have time to go running off!"

"I'll be fine!" she snapped.

The tent quickly emptied, and soon only the aurors and immediate friends of the Weasleys remained. Molly had a hand on Ginny's shoulder and urged Bill and Fleur to disapparate her to safety. Remus and Tonks held their wands out and stood ready to fight; unseen by most, Remus reached out a hand and touched Tonk's waist, a pleading look in his eyes. She shook her head in return, standing firm by his side. Arthur had run into Blaise, and he pushed the young wizard toward the house, telling him to use the floo while he still could.

Before Blaise could duck out, more _cracks_ filled the air. All around the perimeter of the tent, cloaked figures materialized, and at that moment all hell broke loose.

A stinging hex struck Draco in the left arm. He staggered back, fumbling for his wand. Hermione had hers drawn already.

" _Stupefy!_ " she shouted. Amid the chaos Draco couldn't tell if it had worked.

Curses ricocheted off of every surface, filling the air with smoky colored lights. Several of the Death Eaters laughed as they fought. One of them advanced on Hermione and Draco, who couldn't concentrate properly through the pain in his arm.

Blaise appeared at their side. Hermione raised her wand toward their attacker – except he didn't raise his wand in return –

The Death Eater clamped a hand down on Hermione's wrist, and at the same moment, Blaise put a hand on her and Draco both. He apparated them, catching all three off-guard as their stomachs twisted up and their feet left the ground.

They landed in Diagon Alley.

" _Serpentsortia!_ " Draco shouted the first spell that came to mind. A curse would've done better, but this did the trick for now. A large snake burst from his wand, wrapping itself around the Death Eater's neck; the man screamed, falling back while he clawed at the serpent in alarm.

"Let's go," Blaise said, pushing Draco and Hermione forward. They set off down the cobblestone road, only just now realizing how empty it was. All of the shops had closed for the day, despite the early hour, making the street feel desolate and eerie.

"We need to go back," Hermione said. "Harry and Ron –"

"Bugger those two!" Draco hissed. "We have enough to worry about at the moment, if you haven't noticed!"

"Shut up," Blaise ordered. He glanced around the street. "We can't stay here."

"We'll have to go to Grimmauld Place, then." Hermione reached out to the boys, not willing to wait for their Death Eater friend to catch up.

Draco didn't argue this time, and neither did Blaise. Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated on the stoop of Number Twelve, trying to fix it clearly in her mind; a moment later, they arrived.

She turned the doorknob. Draco grabbed her hand. He and Blaise stared down at the street, frozen in place, and Hermione followed their gaze. Not twenty feet away a cloaked figure stood on the sidewalk, previously leaning casually against a lamppost. The figure brandished his wand, his cloaked head swiveling about.

"He can't see us," Hermione whispered. She slowly pushed the door open. "He must've heard us apparate, though. Let's go."

She led the way into the house, Draco on her heels. Blaise kept his wand trained on the wizard, backing his way through the threshold, and he didn't relax until the door was closed and locked.

The portrait in the hall started screaming.

"FILTHY MUDBLOODS, SOILING MY HOUSE! HOW DARE YOU STAND IN MY PRESENCE AND –"

"Oh, fuck off," Draco spat. He flicked his wand and the portrait's curtains snapped closed, ending Mrs. Black's brief tirade.

He rubbed his arm and leaned back against the wall. The house was dark and gloomy, and in the absence of the portrait's bellowing, silence pressed in all around them. He, Hermione, and Blaise looked about, still very much on edge.

Hermione rubbed at her face. The Death Eater had pulled her braid, loosening its strands, and the disheveled look made her appear more tired. She lifted her chin, however, still determined. There was work to do.

"The floo should still be open," she said, "And the others could apparate like we did, too. We should watch both entrances to the house – they might have injuries."

"Or they might be followed, like we were," Blaise added.

Hermione nodded. "I'll take the fireplace."

Draco said nothing. Hermione didn't wait for him to reply, either. She headed through the kitchen at once and took a seat at the dining table, wand in hand, prepared to act at a moment's notice.

Blaise had come out of the fight unscathed, fortunately. He looked to Draco, who held his arm and frowned at the floor.

"Here," Blaise said, raising his wand. "Take that off."

At Draco's confused expression, Blaise indicated the cloak. Draco nodded, understanding, and shrugged out of it.

Blaise rolled up his friend's sleeve and eyed the damage. The hex had burned the underside of Draco's elbow, which bore a patch of deep red skin. It contrasted harshly against his pale complexion.

" _Episkey_ ," Blaise said. He watched as Draco's burn faded. "Damn handy spell, that."

"Thanks," Draco said.

Blaise waited for Draco to leave, expecting that he'd follow Hermione into the other room. He didn't. His eyes remained glued to the ground, that pained expression still on his face.

"I can watch the door," Blaise offered.

Draco blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

"What was that?"

"I said I'll watch the door," Blaise repeated. "Go. I've got things covered here."

"Right," Draco said. He nodded. "Thanks. Again."

"Yeah, yeah. Sod off," Blaise said, smirking.

Draco folded his cloak over his arm and walked into the kitchen. He could see Hermione sitting at the table, her back to him and her hair a mess. She'd removed her heels and tossed them aside. The fireplace across from her sat empty and lifeless.

Setting his cloak on the table, Draco took a seat beside Hermione. He stared at the hearth as well.

"I would have been fine," Hermione said. She didn't look at him.

"That's a bloody confident assessment of things," Draco replied. "I don't know if you noticed, but there was about a Death Eater for each of us out there, and even the aurors didn't look so keen to go running through the middle of it."

"So what, you can do it but I can't?" Hermione finally looked up, an impressive glare on her face. "I saw you, Draco. You were about to do just that for me, but I caught you first."

Draco opened his mouth but couldn't find a proper response in time. Hermione barreled on.

"You say one thing's okay for you, but it's not for me," she said. "And instead of helping me, you _kept_ me from getting to Harry and Ron. Do you really hate them that much? Are you always going to tell me 'no' when I want to put them first? They're my _best friends_. You don't get to do that!"

"Look, Hermione –"

"And now they're out there, and I don't know if they're okay because I'm told to sit here like a good girl and just wait it out, which is entirely unhelpful given the circumstances –"

"I'm your _boyfriend!_ " Draco spat. "I just thought that would count for something, but I was bloody wrong, wasn't I?"

"What more do you _want_ , Draco?" Hermione stood, her chair skidding out from the table. "I went to you first, and not just because I was sorry about – about before!"

Draco got to his feet. "Sorry? Sorry about what, planning to run off with _them_ without giving me any notice whatsoever?"

"It's not like that!"

"Isn't it?" Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He looked down at Hermione and dropped his voice to barely a whisper. "You had to know I couldn't stand it, but you said 'yes' anyway. Well _fuck this_ , Hermione. I'm not about to watch you march off into battle and get killed for the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. I didn't want a martyr for a girlfriend, I wanted _you_."

Hermione deflated a bit. She found it hard to respond at all; what felt like a lump the size of a golfball had filled her throat.

"Saying 'yes' was bloody selfish of you," Draco said. He shook his head, snatching his cloak off of the table. "You can wait for them without me. Oh, and if you're still all set to run away sometime soon, don't bother saying goodbye. I won't need it."

Draco stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a very speechless Hermione in his wake. Blaise didn't react as his friend strode by and sat on the stairs in a huff, resolved to stare pointedly at the ground. They could pretend, for now at least, that Blaise hadn't overheard everything – just like they'd pretend they couldn't hear Hermione crying quietly to herself in the next room, even if it went on for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading, all. I'm sorry to kill your Dramione vibe just as soon as it started. They will bounce back, and as they grow up - which they're doing a lot of right now - the angst will level out. I think it's safe to say they've each made some immature decisions.

I have a few of the later chapters finished, but unfortunately it's not consecutive. I'm going to try to focus my efforts on Thirty-Eight, and I have next week off of work so maybe I can make some magic happen. We'll see. Thank you SO MUCH for all of your support, you are all great. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and what the highlights have been for you - and also, things you didn't like. Feel free to be critics.

I updated my profile, but I haven't said anything in my Author's Notes yet. If any of you are artists, or have connections with people who enjoy projects like this, I'd LOVE some fan art of my story. I'd love a portrait of Blaise, and some of the scenes I've written, or even just some Dramione. It's all great. I get that it's a tall order, I just think it would be awesome.

Anyway, off to do some more writing! Love you guys.

Penny


	38. Tactical Advantage

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Tactical Advantage**

It was midnight when the fireplace finally erupted into flames, emitting an eerie green glow while several figures stumbled out of it. Hermione, wand in hand, spun to face the newcomers; she'd been pacing, near-panicked, for the last hour. At the sound of the floo activating, both Blaise and Draco burst into the kitchen, passing into the dining hall in time to see a slew of Weasleys arrive.

Arthur, tailed by Fred and George, stepped in first. He held his hands up in surrender while Charlie and Molly followed through.

"It's just us," he said, and Hermione lowered her wand. Blaise and Draco met eyes for a second. They kept their wands up.

"Is everyone okay?" Hermione asked.

Draco pushed past and set himself firmly between Hermione and Arthur, his wand pointing straight to Arthur's heart. Everyone froze.

"The second night I was here," Draco said, his voice low, "You took me into the library. What did you say to me?"

Arthur's mouth fell into a grim, straight line. "Both things?"

Draco mulled this over, however quickly. He seemed to accept that answer, because he dropped his wand slightly. Behind them, Blaise's aim fell to the floor.

"We weren't separated," Arthur said, "So there's no chance that anyone else here is an imposter. Can you trust me on that, Draco?"

Nodding, Draco slipped his wand into his pocket. He stepped aside, leaving everyone quite bewildered in his wake. Hermione blinked a few times, still processing. She hadn't even thought to question them. She would have let a group of Death Eaters into Grimmauld Place, as long as they looked like loved ones.

"Where are Ron and Harry?" Molly asked.

"They're not with you?" Blaise said.

In the hall, the portrait of Mrs. Black exploded into screams. Everyone jumped. Hermione, having shaken herself to her senses, made it through the kitchen first, wand at the ready. Blaise and Draco followed on her heel.

"Bloody hell, I'll go deaf at this rate – shut her up, will you –"

The two boys in question had just entered through the front door, Harry's invisibility cloak in a shimmery tangle around their feet, and had knocked into Mrs. Black's portrait. Hermione's heart did a relieved tumble in her chest. She flicked her wand at the portrait, its curtains snapping shut. Mrs. Black's screaming stopped, though she continued to grumble under her breath.

Harry tripped over the cloak, but Blaise stepped forward and steadied him. They looked at each other, expressions unreadable, before quickly stepping away.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Molly gasped. "I just about had a heart attack over the two of you –"

Blaise winced, not wanting to cut her off, but he pointed his wand at Harry. Ron's face screwed up in anger.

"Oi, what are you playing at –"

"Potter," Blaise said calmly, "During fourth year, you borrowed the Prefects' bath to solve your little egg problem. Who joined you?"

Everyone looked to Harry, whose face turned beet-red. Fred and George grinned to each other in the background, but Molly didn't seem to find it very funny. Hermione's jaw had dropped. Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"It wasn't like that!" he hissed, glaring at Blaise. "It was – er – well, it was Moaning Myrtle, all right?"

"What was she doing in the baths with you?" Ron asked, unable to suppress a chuckle. Even Molly's concern had vanished.

"What do you think? It's not like I _invited_ her," Harry said. He rounded on Blaise. "And how do _you_ know about that, anyway?"

"Ah, come on, Potter," Blaise said, stowing his wand away with a wink. "Don't think you're the _only_ bloke she fancies. Quite a gossip, that one."

Everyone relaxed, the tension quite thoroughly diffused. Harry mustered a scowl for Blaise, but even that came out half-hearted. They were all just relieved to be together, considering the chaos from earlier that day.

Hermione found herself reaching out to Draco instinctively – she wanted to share the moment with him – but he'd moved away. Her face fell.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked, hoping to divert the attention away from himself.

"Bill and Fleur took her, dear," Molly replied. "They made it out before the fighting."

Harry nodded. "Good. Okay."

Draco took the initiative to head back into the kitchen, and everyone else followed. Molly set a kettle on the stove, and when Arthur passed by, he set a calming hand on her shoulder; she gave him a small smile. Charlie was the first to pull out a chair and slump into it, his dress robes badly singed at the hem.

"So what happened with you three?" he asked.

"We made it here hours ago," Draco said. "One of the Death Eaters came at us – er, actually…" He trailed off, suddenly looking directly at Hermione. She paused, a chair pulled partway out from the table. " _Did_ he come at us? Because… Hold on…"

Blaise shook his head. "No, you're right, mate. He didn't attack at random. I saw him, he made a beeline straight for her."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, alarmed. "That can't be right –"

"No, that doesn't make sense," Hermione agreed.

"Doesn't it?" Fred said quietly. Everyone turned to him. "Sorry, but – I think he's right. I saw it too. Didn't even raise a wand to you, did he?" He directed this question to Hermione, who shook her head slowly. "No, he went for your arm, like he wanted to apparate."

"You didn't see it, but Goyle did the same to you," George said to Harry. "Except he didn't get much of a chance, seeing as Tonks knocked him out cold."

Molly looked pale. She busied herself with the tea, pacing between the table and the stove, handing off mismatched mugs and chewing on her lip.

"They were trying to take us away," Harry realized, "Just like during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But why –"

"Yeah, why you and 'Mione?" Ron interrupted.

"Don't write yourself off so quick, Weasley," Draco said. He thumbed at the steaming mug in his hands. "If they wanted Harry and Hermione, then they wanted you too. You can bet on it."

Molly slammed the kettle down on the stovetop so hard that it shattered, bits of faded blue clay flying everywhere.

"You're all just _children!_ " she said, bracing herself on the counter.

"Molly –" Arthur leapt to his feet, trying to comfort his wife, who had begun to shake terribly. The others looked away. "Molly, they're all right, they're _safe_ –"

"Why can't they just leave us alone?" she snapped. "Look what they did to our _home_ , Arthur – _why_ …"

No one dared speak into the silence that followed. It seemed that everyone except Hermione, Draco, and Blaise knew exactly what Molly meant about that, and it wasn't good. Harry and all of the Weasley children present looked grimly at their hands, or the floor, or the ceiling… But none looked at each other. Fred and George, already in a somber mood, looked even more uncharacteristically serious.

Draco knew he couldn't be the one to ask, and he didn't tempt himself. Hermione would figure it out, of course. She'd be deeply upset if something happened to her makeshift family and their home.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. To his surprise, she made no move to speak. Her eyebrows were drawn together with concern, and she watched Arthur guide Molly gently out of the room, but even then she didn't ask.

She looked up, her bright eyes meeting Draco's.

Clenching his jaw, Draco turned away. Why was she looking at him?

"What happened, after we left?" Blaise asked quietly.

No one wanted to answer. The Weasleys seemed to take in a collective breath, staring furtively at each other, until eventually all eyes landed on Charlie. He sighed.

"Most everyone cleared out, thank Merlin," he said, clearing his throat. "Though that left the rest of us with our hands full. We held our own. Moody, Remus and Tonks, and a few others stayed to help. There were about twelve Death Eaters – more than that at first, I guess, seeing as you took one with you.

"They kept grouping up on Harry, so we had to keep distracting them and drawing them away. Tonks stunned Goyle, like I said, and Moody took out Macnair, so it started looking pretty good for us… And then Rodolphus Lestrange hit Moody back. He'll be alright, mind you, but it was a bloody mess, and it didn't look so good then. One of them went for Harry, and then Remus got in the way…"

"Is he alright?" Draco asked suddenly, sitting up straighter.

Charlie's jaw twitched. "Should be."

"It was Wormtail," Ron ground out, utterly livid. "Don't know what bloody curse he used –"

"Spit it out, Weasley," Draco snapped. He rolled his eyes at himself. " _Ron_ , I mean. Bugger it."

"Took his arm off," Fred answered. George, unsmiling, made a chopping motion over his elbow. "His wand arm, too. Blood everywhere. Tonks screaming like mad."

Hermione blanched, subconsciously reaching for her own arm and gripping it hard. Draco slumped back in his chair.

"The Lovegoods got Moody, Lupin, and Tonks into the floo," Charlie continued. "They're at Shell Cottage with everyone else. We apparated there after Bellatrix set the house on fire."

"She _what?_ " Hermione said, clapping a hand over her mouth. "The Burrow? No – you can't mean –"

"It's gone," Ron said, his words filled with a sense of finality.

"Oh my god… I'm so _sorry_ …"

Hermione reached out and laid a hand on Ron's elbow, her eyes filling with tears. Harry had his face in his hands, and the other Weasleys looked pointedly away.

Draco and Blaise glanced at each other. It made sense now. Molly's outburst had been entirely reasonable, it seemed – in fact, they'd all held up quite well, considering. The Slytherins present knew a thing or two about losing one's home, and how it wasn't easy to move on from that.

"Yeah," Draco said quietly, "I second that."

It was the closest thing to consolation that any of them would get, and it felt strange to say. Blaise, sitting beside Draco, nodded in agreement. If he felt odd about giving sympathy to the Weasleys, he didn't show it.

"Will you all be here, then?" Blaise asked.

"I'll be there with Bill and Fleur for now," Charlie answered. "I reckon this lot will stick around, though, along with Mum and Dad. The cottage is pretty cramped, so don't be surprised if you take in a few extras too."

"Right," Blaise said. "Let us know if we can do anything."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Right, Zabini. You know we will."

That cued the stirring of everyone in the room, who suddenly felt all their exhaustion at once and started rubbing at their eyes. Molly returned just then, composed once more, and urged them all to get some sleep. Charlie was the only one to leave that night, and he did so with a quiet goodbye and tight hugs all around before flooing away.

Hermione trudged up to her room, shoes dangling from her hand, and by the time she reached her door she'd yanked her hair free. It cascaded over her shoulders, wavy and shiny – though bushy as usual – and she raked her fingers through it a few times.

She'd made a mess of things with Draco. As much as she wanted to be with him, he wouldn't have any of it, would he? Not as mad as he was. She hadn't said good night to him before, and he'd slipped into his room already.

She didn't want to be alone. How could she get any sleep, the other side of her bed empty – like it always was, except tonight, after everything that had happened, it seemed so unnatural…

"Hermione?"

Spinning, she dropped her shoes in surprise. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Blaise stood there, having just ascended the stairs, and he ruffled his hair nervously. His dark, angular eyes cast about the hall, looking anywhere except at Hermione, it seemed. At the sight of black hair, not white-blond, Hermione's heart sank back down.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you okay?" Blaise licked his lips, his brow creased. He'd stripped off his dress robe, which he set on the bannister, and wore his white blouse with the sleeves rolled up.

"Me?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, you," he replied. "I heard what happened earlier. Are you okay?"

Hermione blinked. Blaise stepped closer.

"I'm fine," she said.

"I don't believe you," Blaise said, and he set himself directly in front of the shorter witch. Having gained some traction, he kept his gaze steady, locking eyes with her.

Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Something wasn't right. She couldn't tell what Blaise was thinking, but right now, staring into his chocolate-brown eyes, she couldn't ignore how close he stood.

As for Blaise, his heartbeat had been racing for the last few minutes. He hated it.

"Hermione, I'm going to ask you something," he whispered. "Whatever you say, it's not leaving here. It's between you and me, and that's it."

"Okay…" she said.

"Are you in love with him?"

The question hit Hermione like a drop-kick to the gut. She felt all breath leave her lungs.

"Draco?"

"Yeah," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. "Him."

Hermione opened her mouth, but she couldn't work out the right answer. _Did_ she love Draco? What the hell kind of question was that? How was she supposed to know? Of course she felt very strongly for him, but where exactly did one draw the line between "fancies" and "loves?"

While she debated with herself internally, a rosy blush filled her cheeks. Blaise sighed. He reached out and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders.

" _Hermione_." He dipped his face, staring her very directly in the eye. "You and him, you're a mess. You are. I've watched that git fall over himself for you since first year – that's right, you heard me, _first_ year – and I'm watching him fall over himself for you now. He can be a real ass, but you know what? You can be too."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Blaise barreled on.

"But let me tell you something: that idiot did one thing right so far, and that was getting you to fancy him back. I'd give up my first born to be in his shoes right now, and so would just about any bloke. Don't shake your head at me, Granger, you need to give yourself some credit.

"My _point_ is, I've watched you two do this bloody dance for years now, and I'm sick of it. Stop being idiots, it doesn't suit either of you. And he was right, you know, you should have told him you're leaving. That was some grade-A shite. And guess what? You were right too. He can't take it personally whenever you go off with Potter and Weasley, and if he really wants to be your boyfriend, then he needs to realize he can't change that you're friends with them.

"So since your little spat earlier, you _had_ to have realized that there are more important things, and he's one of them. I can guarantee that he's had the same thought. So, instead of moping around out here, by yourself, go apologize to your bloody boyfriend, accept _his_ apology, and be fucking happy already."

Blaise removed his hands and stepped back, leaving an utterly dumbfounded Hermione in his wake. Her mouth had fallen into a surprised "o" and her eyes glazed over slightly. If he wasn't mistaken, Blaise had really shaken her up.

"You – you think –" she tried, unable to shape a coherent sentence.

"Yeah, it's not really about what _I_ think, now is it?" Blaise said. "Now go, or I'll never hear the end of it. _Go_."

Hermione nodded, finally making sense of her friend's little tirade. She picked up her shoes and headed for the stairs. Pausing at the bannister, she turned back, opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. Settling for an uncertain smile, Hermione continued up the stairs. She'd make good use of Blaise's advice.

Blaise waited for her to disappear around the corner before he could finally breathe again. Something inside him had wrenched painfully at the sight… He'd thought for a moment that she might even change her mind. She might pick _him_.

 _What an arse_ , he thought, slumping against Hermione's door. He knew he'd been playing with fire by getting so close, he just… Had to know. Had to figure this bloody thing out.

He'd always fancied Luna, and Blaise could accept that now. He could admit it to himself. Now, however, all that seemed so far away… Even seeing her tonight at the wedding, and seriously contemplating asking her to dance, he couldn't imagine that she'd ever say yes. She didn't know him, he was just the ugly Slytherin. Distant…

Except Luna looked at Blaise the same way that Hermione did. They didn't grimace or frown when they saw him, and they didn't stare, not like other people. Neither girl looked at him any differently now than they had before – before the duel.

No one could understand how intoxicating it was, to be looked at like that. Even Blaise hadn't realized until now just how addictive it felt. Before, he knew he could get any girl to fancy him. All he needed was adequate time. But now…

He shook his head at himself.

 _What an arse._

Pushing off of the door, Blaise strode to the stairs. He took up his dress robe. Unlike everyone else, he'd need to face an empty bedroom tonight. He didn't have the luxury of a brother, or spouse, or even a best friend to fill that space. It would just be him, and the dark, and the silence.

He'd get used to it eventually.

…

Draco laid on his bed, over the top of the fraying quilt, and he crossed his arms behind his head. As leisurely as he looked, he couldn't relax. It was uncomfortably warm in the room, even after he'd yanked off his shirt, pants, and socks. The garments littered the floor, along with his shoes, making things look even dingier than normal.

A light rapping on the door caught his attention. He sat up quickly, staring down at himself – just a pair of loose-ish black boxer briefs covered him up at this point.

"Hang on," he said, having to clear his throat to speak loudly. Springing off of the bed, Draco tugged open the top drawer of his rickety little dresser and began pawing through it.

If that was Hermione – which it had to be, Blaise wouldn't bother knocking and no one else liked Draco enough to pay a visit – then he'd obviously want to appear more put-together. He located a grey t-shirt and slid it on.

He started combing through another drawer, nearly panicking when he couldn't find any proper pajama pants, and then Draco finally paused. What did he care, anyway? He was aching with fatigue, and Hermione, even as testy as she was, would probably be more curious than anything if she caught him half-dressed.

Groaning to himself, and already regretting this particular decision, Draco pulled open the door.

"Oh." Sure enough, Hermione stood on the other side, her hand poised to knock again. Her eyes flitted over Draco's body so quickly that he almost didn't catch it. She didn't look him in the face.

"I… I just wondered if we could talk," she said.

Draco didn't reply, but he stepped to the side and opened his door farther. Inwardly, his spirits had lifted a great deal. Knowing he could still get Hermione flustered made for a real ego boost.

Hermione ducked her head and walked past, setting her shoes gingerly on the old wooden floor. She'd let her hair down, and it looked sleeker than usual. She hadn't changed out of her little black dress.

The door shut with a soft _click_.

"Talk," Draco said simply. He settled himself back down on his bed, crossing his legs and closing his eyes.

Hermione huffed. She crossed her arms. "I – well – you know, you could make this a bit easier on me."

"Make _what_ easier, exactly?"

"You know," Hermione snapped, "Apologizing."

At those words, Draco's eyes popped open. He sat up on his bed and folded his hands together neatly in his lap, suddenly full of rapt attention.

"Apologies?" he said curiously. "No, surely not from _my_ Hermione. She's too stubborn and headstrong."

"That's redundant."

" _That's_ deflecting."

Hermione pursed her lips, tapping her foot impatiently. "I _can_ apologize, you know. I can admit when I made a mistake… Can you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We both know I've spent the majority of this relationship apologizing to you."

"Fair enough…" Hermione said. She tugged on a strand of hair. Draco waited, but nothing came after that. Hermione seemed so preoccupied with fidgeting and stalling that she might have forgotten she wasn't alone, chewing on her lip and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Draco let the silence drag on for a long minute before he gave up.

"Hermione," he said, "I'm sorry for what I said. And how I acted. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," she replied. Eyeing the bed cautiously, and taking care not to look at Draco's inadequately-clothed legs, Hermione came forward and sat next to him. "I mean, thank you. I appreciate that. And… Look, I'm really sorry too. I can't let Harry and Ron go without me, but… I'm sorry. I should have talked to you about it."

Draco nodded slowly. It still hurt to think she'd be running off without him soon, but this was a start.

Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "You have a really good friend, you know."

"What?"

"Blaise. He told me to stop being an ass and come see you."

"Huh." Draco mulled that over. He hadn't realized what Blaise was up to earlier, but he sure as hell appreciated it right now.

"It was kind of odd, actually," Hermione continued, "I almost thought… Well, never mind that. I had a question for you."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"What was it that Mr. Weasley said to you?" she asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Neither of them realized how close they'd gotten in the last minute. They sat beside each other on the narrow bed, hunched inward, and just now Hermione's hand brushed Draco's knee. He felt a twinge of warmth flood his stomach at the contact. Evidently Hermione felt something similar, because she looked down and blushed.

Draco reached out and covered Hermione's hand with his own. He didn't look up, however, and his expression looked pained.

"He told me not to hurt you, for one," he said slowly, "And he told me to keep us – me and Blaise – away from Ginny." Draco snorted. "Typical father stuff, really. Nothing groundbreaking."

"Oh."

"You all think of each other as family," Draco said. "It never made sense to me, even after living here for so long, but tonight it just… It fell into place. I saw you crying about the Burrow, and it was more than just sympathy. You lost a piece of home tonight, just as much as they did, didn't you? I'm sorry."

Hermione stared at Draco, more surprised than he expected. She turned her hand over and interlocked her fingers with his.

"You don't have that with anyone, do you?" she asked. "Not even with Blaise. That's why you never understood how I can be friends with Ron and Harry like I am, like a sister."

Draco shook his head. Pansy came to mind; she'd been like a sister. Even then, between her, Blaise, and Draco, they'd always had a separateness. Lucius and Narcissa wouldn't dote on them the way they did their own son, and same went for the Zabinis and Parkinsons. There was no secondary family.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "It'll happen eventually. It's funny, though… Puts everything into perspective, doesn't it? Hearing everyone talk about tonight… It makes you feel ridiculous for fighting at all, when any moment, everything could end. Just like that."

"I needed some perspective," Hermione agreed. Then, untangling her fingers from Draco's, she slid off the bed and turned away.

Draco watched her go, and something akin to distress filled his chest. He started to raise his hand, to catch Hermione before she could leave – it dawned on him that he couldn't be alone, not tonight, not after everything that had happened –

Hermione reached behind her neck and undid the clasp at the top of her dress. Draco's arm fell back.

"I can't reach the zipper," she said, the unspoken invitation sending a chill down Draco's spine. He scooted to the end of the bed, trying not to look overzealous about it. His mouth felt dry.

She had pulled her thick hair over one shoulder, so Draco grasped the tiny zipper easily and carefully slid it downward. Admittedly, he'd seen the contraptions on muggle-style bookbags around Hogwarts, but he'd never used one himself. He thanked Merlin that it worked simply and took no brain-power to operate, seeing as in this moment, he really had none to spare. The black fabric of Hermione's dress seemed to fall away, revealing lightly-tanned skin in its wake. He followed the zipper down the gentle curve of her back, where it revealed the barest hint of lacy, coral-pink knickers.

Hermione turned around, catching Draco's intent stare before he could compose himself. She smirked to herself.

"I really like this on you, by the way," Draco said, clearing his throat.

"Oh? Should I keep it on, then?"

"No." It came out more demanding than he meant, but Draco noticed a touch of intrigue grace Hermione's golden eyes. He could work with that. He put his hands on her hips, less gentle now, and pulled her toward him. When she leaned down to meet his stare, Hermione had all kinds of exhilaration and uncertainty on her face. "Do you trust me?"

Her breath caught. Hermione's cheeks burned, but she managed to nod. Draco's eyes were steel in more ways than one; his expression wasn't friendly. He _needed_ her.

Good thing she needed him too.

"Take it off."

Hermione nodded again, more shaky this time. She stepped back and pulled her dress over her head, hoping it wouldn't get caught up on her frame and result in embarrassment. The fabric bunched up around her shoulders, but it slipped off just fine in the end. She dropped the garment onto the floor, now wearing only her knickers and bra.

She watched Draco's eyes scan her up and down, almost predatory in his focus. When he looked back up to her face, though, his gaze had softened.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he said, while Hermione wrapped her arms comfortingly around herself. Draco pulled them back down. He didn't want her to hide from him. "I should have said that before, but I didn't because I'm a ruddy idiot."

"You are," Hermione quipped.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. "Not even a 'thank you,' then? Hmm. You need to learn some manners."

They both paused – they hadn't ever wandered into this kind of territory before. Hell, Draco had thought up this scenario in a dozen or more ways, but he couldn't imagine that Hermione would let him get away with it. For her part, she didn't exactly know how far it would lead.

The authority in Draco's voice lit something in Hermione's brain. Heat crawled over her skin, all of it coming together and centering low in her belly. She decided that she could get used to hearing him talk that way… Really, it couldn't be too bad.

"We don't have to do anything," Draco said quickly. "Look, I'm sorry – I'm pushing you –"

"Don't be sorry," Hermione said. "I… I was rude. Maybe I need to learn."

They locked eyes. Hermione tried to hide her anxiousness, and she did a good job of it. If Draco hadn't known better, he would have thought she knew _exactly_ what kind of effect she had on him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, already reaching out for her bare waist.

"I trust you," she replied. "So yes, I'm quite sure."

The remnants of Draco's restraint broke. He dug his fingertips into Hermione's soft skin and drew her toward him, setting himself on the edge of the rickety bed. He tugged on her hair, hinting at what he wanted, and she obliged by bending to him and kissing him hard. A moment later Hermione had thrown herself onto him, wrapping her legs around Draco's waist, and she dragged her fingernails across his shoulder blades.

Draco closed his eyes at the minor pain, breathing out heavily with pleasure. He twisted up a handful of Hermione's hair and pulled on it, trying not to get too rough… Hermione gasped, but it wasn't indignant or aggrieved, so Draco pulled a bit harder.

She mirrored his movements, raking her fingers through his blonde hair and jerking his head to the side. Before Draco could even react himself, Hermione had set to kissing his exposed neck. He wrapped an arm around her waist, gripping the underside of her thigh with his other hand, and in a fluid motion he flipped her over onto the mattress.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," he said breathlessly.

"Don't stop," Hermione replied. She had her hands in his hair again, and her bare legs tangled up in his.

"No, _really_ ," Draco said, "Tell me when you need to stop. I don't want –"

" _Draco_ ," Hermione hissed, cupping his face resolutely in her hands. "We could have _died_ tonight, but instead we got in some ridiculous fight. Do you know what Tonks and Remus are doing right now? She's worried sick over him, trying to help him however she can, and he's trying to heal what's left of his arm. They don't have the luxury of fighting with each other, let alone the luxury of… Of this."

Draco tried to keep up with her, but his brain couldn't process Hermione's words. Not all of them, at least. He had an idea of what she was getting at, but he couldn't be quite sure.

Hermione sighed. "I don't want to miss out on you. Call me rash, or impatient, but life is getting shorter every day… So don't stop, alright? I'll tell you if I need a break. I promise."

Draco waited for an addendum, but Hermione didn't waiver. He lowered himself onto her, not sure he could continue holding himself up like that. Hermione's legs locked around his hips, sending a jolt of heat down his navel.

"You might change your mind," he said.

"I won't," she said. "But I'll tell you if I do."

He nodded, trying to get his thoughts under control, but then Hermione had grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward, letting out a little huff of annoyance that it wasn't off already. It took all of a few seconds for Draco to sit upright, tear the thing off, and return to snogging Hermione senseless. Her soft hands roamed over his back, and his chest – Draco halted in his movements here, waiting for her to push away, only she didn't – and then lower. She slid her fingertips under the edge of his boxers.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

Draco fought back a groan. All the blood in his body pulsed achingly, drawn toward his groin like it was magnetized, and the closer Hermione got to fully unclothing him, the more desperate he felt.

She pulled the fabric down, her breathing more ragged now. Draco hooked his fingers under her knickers. When he tugged on them, the delicate lace gave way; the fabric tore almost soundlessly. He opened his mouth to apologize.

" _Don't stop_ ," Hermione demanded, for the final time.

And that night, unbeknownst to the other residents of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, they wouldn't stop themselves at all.

…

Far away from London, on a small, icy island off the coast of Norway, the sky looked dark and tumultuous. Theo's grandparents kept a cozy little house on the southern tip of Lepsøya, so thankfully the cold couldn't seep in and disrupt one's comfort there; that's what made it such a perfect safehouse. The other Death Eaters didn't know about it, either. Theo's father had always been careful about that.

Pansy sat on Theo's grandmother's old rocking chair, wrapped with a thick knitted blanket, and she nudged the ground every few seconds with her foot to keep it swaying back and forth. Her hair had grown out a bit over the last few months, and without access to a proper hairdresser, she'd resorted to pinning back her bangs each day. Makeup didn't matter here.

Off behind her, she heard the fireplace roar to life. Everything glowed green for a moment in that tiny den.

Heavy footsteps approached. She didn't look up when Theo stepped in front of her, still removing his coal-black Death Eater's cloak. He knelt in front of her, steadying the chair with his large hands.

"Hey Pan," he said quietly.

She looked at him, finally, but said nothing.

"I brought you some books," Theo said, gesturing to a short stack of texts he'd set by his boots. "They're some of my sister's favorites, you'll really like them."

"I'm sick of reading," Pansy said.

Theo's face fell. "I know, Pan. I'm sorry. I hate that you have to stay cooped up in here all the time –"

"I'm going back to Hogwarts."

Pansy stared past him as she said it. She looked bored more than anything. She'd spent too much time being angry, and she was sick of that, too.

Theo frowned. He smoothed down his hair, which was oily after the long day. Even unwashed hair couldn't spoil his boyish good looks.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "What will the Professors think? What about the other students? Last they heard, you left with me after the attack."

"Maybe I'll tell them the truth."

Theo's frown deepened. He stood, towering over Pansy in her chair. He had to find a way to convince her not to go.

"I can't protect you from the Dark Lord if you leave."

"Hogwarts is protection enough. I'm going. I want to see Draco and Blaise again. I need to make sure they're okay. No one's seen Blaise since that night, and it kills me just to think about it."

"I told you, it wasn't Greyback who got to him," Theo tried. They'd had this argument before. "Greyback wouldn't have left anything behind. It had to be a curse, Pan. Someone hit him with something, and Pomfrey must've found him within the hour. He's _fine_."

Pansy didn't betray any emotion, but she cast her sharp gaze over Theo. Funny how he could act so innocent. She almost believed him, too.

"I don't know," she said, pulling the blanket in tighter. "It sounds a lot like Greyback to me. He could have been interrupted, or something…"

Theo's face softened, everything touched with sympathy. It made Pansy's stomach turn. She'd tested him like this over and over by now, and he hadn't broken once. Still, she knew the truth. She'd seen the blood on Theo's robes that night, and she'd seen which direction he came from. The same way Blaise had left.

Not that he'd given her much time to think on it, considering that he'd stunned her before she could react. For her own good, of course.

She felt Theo's hand cover her own; he felt warm and familiar, like always. He'd been so perfect, back at Hogwarts… And somehow he still was, even now. He was still her sensitive, loving Theo… Except these days, those very traits sickened Pansy to her core.

"Come on, love," he said softly. "Let's get you to bed."

Pansy looked up, giving him a small smile. At least in some ways, he really _was_ innocent. He slept on the floor each night when he was home, and he'd never once proposed the obvious option. Too much a gentleman to consider it.

He guided her into the bedroom and tucked her in, like always. He hated to see her like this, and she'd never considered what a risk he was taking by hiding her away… Bellatrix was desperate to find Draco, and if she knew that Theo had a connection to Pansy, she'd _crucio_ him into oblivion just like the Longbottoms.

He'd never threatened Pansy with violence, and by all means, she was free to leave at her own will. She hadn't left the cottage once all summer, which would have been a good thing… Theo just wanted her to be safe and happy. He could make her safe and happy. She just needed to give him more _time_.

Pansy only pretended to fall asleep that night. Then, when she heard Theo's breathing slow, and she glanced over to find him tangled up in his blankets, she slipped away. The great oaf didn't wake up when she used the floo, even, which helped things along. She didn't want another confrontation, and couldn't risk letting him figure her out – because all summer, Theo hadn't once considered that Pansy stayed for tactical reasons. He's never dreamt that the long conversations and her undivided attention added up to anything other than love.

 _Bloody idiot_ , Pansy thought, stepping out of the hearth at the Three Broomsticks. Even as she thought it, however, she looked around. Her chest filled with a sensation that she could only describe as emptiness, not that she could do anything about that now.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, you guys got me on a roll. I didn't expect to finish the next chapter for at least another week. I'm sorry if it's rough - let me know if you notice anything - I'd edited it multiple times but it was all in a row so I easily could have missed something.

Once again, thank you for your support. Leave a review, I love to hear your thoughts! You guys have awesome insight into the characters and plot, so it's always great to have input. I'm also in the market for new fics to read, especially Hermione/Fred, Hermione/Remus, or of course, Hermione/Draco. I love the ones that stay true to character. Drop a line with your suggestions, I'd really appreciate it!

I'm not sure when the next chapter will happen. I'll keep at it, though. Love you guys!

Penny


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